


Watch Me Catch the Sky

by imaginary_dragonling



Series: A Wyvern's Tale [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Kidnapping, Auroras, Comfort/Angst, Dancing, Danger, Dragons, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Fights, Flying, Gods, High Fantasy, Human, Hurt/Comfort, Ice, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mages, Magic, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, Snow, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_dragonling/pseuds/imaginary_dragonling
Summary: I am fading.I am tired.Soon, sleep will claim me.And I will not be able to hear your call.It is the way things have been.It is the way things will be.It is the way things are.You will be my last;My final gift.The change will be hardest on you, my children.The path before you is hidden.Many difficult decisions and hard choices await you.I cannot guide you,But I can tell you this:Be true to yourself,And in the end,you will be,my victor.





	1. Over the Hill

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this adventure is written and complete. A new chapter will be posted every week on Fridays 00:00 EST / Thursdays 21:00 PST until mid November 2018.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had the idea of the story for a while and finally decided to write it as part of the LiveLoveYOIBigBang.
> 
> shadhahvar ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/shadhahvar)) made an amazing piece of art for this fic which you can see at the end of the chapter.
> 
> This story was beta read by Zupsgirl1 ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fraulein_Zupan/pseuds/Zupsgirl1) & [tumblr](https://zupsgirl1.tumblr.com/)), [ICanSeeClearlyNow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICanSeeClearlyNow/pseuds/ICanSeeClearlyNow), callasyndra ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callasyndra/pseuds/callasyndra) & [tumblr](https://wintersblight.tumblr.com/)), sprosslee, DameOfNoDelicacy, and BabblingBadger.
> 
> Enjoy and beware… There be dragons here.

Victor soared higher on an updraft in an upper layer of the Shroud and let his eyelids drift close. The air here was thin and magic filled the spaces between. Victor inhaled, tasting the crispness of winter’s chill as it seeped through him, bleeding into his bones. It almost hurt. It almost felt like being alive.

The evening was quiet. The altitude was too high for cloud and feather, and his wings had carried him far enough away that when Victor reached for a presence, he was greeted only by blessed silence.

Victor tilted his head sideways and slid an eyelid open. Aerwath’s domain was empty still, its denizens hidden by the brilliance of the sun which hung, obstinate, in the sky, squalling for one last encore. But even the sun tired from his stage, and as Victor watched, the sun gave one last show of defiance, bathing the world in gold and fire. The last rays of the day glinted off the silver in in his wings, before it relinquished its dominance and concedes to rest, sinking into shadow and concealing itself even from Victor’s gaze.

Victor breathed in and sensed the currents shift as the air in the Shroud cooled. With practised ease, Victor dipped his wings and turned, angling back into a graceful glide towards home. One downward stroke was enough to quicken his pace and Victor coasted, enjoying these last precious moments of quiet, of peace. The streams of magic would soon stir, and it would not do to keep the others waiting. Fond as he was of antagonising Yakov, the others depended on him, and there was enough misfortune in Nebogori lately that Victor was loath to add to the tension.

As Victor settled into an air stream that would carry him home, he passed over a patch in the landscape below him that sent a shiver through his spine. Even from this distance, Victor could feel the dearth of magic like an aberration — a scar on an otherwise pristine land.

Saoul — Northernmost town on the Frozen Continent; Trading post of rare items and dubious origins; Den of smugglers, thieves, and vagabonds; Home to humans. It used to be a great settlement, or so the older dragons say — those who remembered visiting, walking its streets, mingling with the human crowds there. Then, magic was not so scarce and dragons were not the only ones who could conceal their true nature.

Now, only the barest hint of elemental magic called to him from the cleared square of land below. The earth lay silent, beaten and trodden under the human dwellings clustered around it; to its South, where no plant took root under the untouched snow, strife and struggle and sorrow lay Emlya's earth fallow.

Victor shook his wings and tossed his hair out of his eyes. Fifteen cycles of the seasons and still the earth remembered. If she still grieved why should her children be expected to forget? It had been fifteen cycles since Yakov had forbidden them from coming near Saoul. Only the young, the ones still tempted by adventure and eager to explore the world outside their borders, conspired to disobey.

Mila was still young then. Victor huffed a dry laugh. He forgot too easily that Mila was only eighteen, closer in age to Yuri than he liked to admit. With the way she bossed the younger dragons around, bossed Victor around, you would think her senior to them all. She would make Flight leader someday. Soon. Yet that very afternoon, Mila had come to him and whispered her request.

"Want to go visit Saoul tonight?" Mila had asked as she groomed her tail, seemingly unaware of the gravity of her suggestion. Yet Victor knew her too well to miss the tremor in her voice, the undercurrent of excitement she tried and failed to conceal behind a facade of nonchalance.

"Why do you want to go?" Victor said, refusing to move from where he lay stretched out under the sun. Two could play at this game.

"I'm eighteen this cycle. Can't a girl have some fun?" Mila’s smile was coy, eyes glittering with innocence from beneath her long red lashes.

"Swimming in the lake is fun."

Mila dropped the pretence. "It would be so much more fun. Nothing ever happens here. Nothing ever changes."

Victor sat up. "Why are you asking me for permission?" Mila was headstrong, more than capable of making her own decisions. Considering he spent half his time helping her cover up her mischief, he knew for a fact that she preferred to.

"It would be nice for Georgi if you came. You went with him last time." Mila dug a claw into the ground, not meeting Victor's eyes.

"I'll think about it," Victor said, taking off before Mila could ensnare his agreement.

All afternoon her request nagged at him. Victor had only visited Saoul once, a clandestine excursion on Georgi's and his eighteenth birthdays. The older dragons had called it a rite of passage, to refuse was to break a secret dragon tradition. Victor didn't buy it. He would have kept his mouth shut in any case, but then Georgi pleaded with him to come. They ended up at the southern edge of Saoul that night. None of them returned after that. None of them wanted to.

Victor sighed and flew in earnest. His answer to Mila's request would have to wait. First, there was work to be done. Their home depended on it. It would not do to be weighed down by the ghosts of the past when their future demanded a clear mind and quick decisions. Tonight’s Flight had to be perfect. Victor had to be perfect. Too much depended on it.

 

* * *

 

“Phichit, wait!”

Yuuri’s breath condensed and dissipated in white puffs around him as he struggled up the hill, heavy fur-lined boots slipping on the ice beneath the fresh layer of snow. The stitch in his side ached, his lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and Yuuri’s legs protested the uphill exertion; and still Yuuri kept going. His satchel bumped a new bruise into his hip and Yuuri huffed, wondering why he always let himself be goaded into Phichit’s games.

“Come on, Yuuri!” Phichit’s voice rang out like a song, bright and full of promise across the open field bleached white by snow. Yuuri caught sight of Phichit’s face. The barest hint of a flush showed under Phichit’s tanned skin, the tip of his upturned nose was red from the cold, and his mouth was split wide in an irresistible grin, showing off his white, even teeth. Phichit’s dark grey eyes were bright with mischief and his eyes met Yuuri’s, full of challenge and excitement.

Yuuri tucked his staff under his arm, pulled his bag close to his body, and charged up the hill, following in the imprint of Phichit’s footsteps.

Yuuri made it to the top of the hill first, collapsing face down into the snow.

“That was—,” Yuuri wheezed, “Let’s not do that again. I’m too old for this.”

Phichit flopped down, panting, next to him. “You’ve only just turned twenty-three,” Phichit tossed more snow into Yuuri’s hair, “and your stamina’s great. You’re such a drama queen, Yuuri.”

Yuuri scoffed and rolled onto his back, breathing deep to catch his breath as he stared up at the painted hues of sunset, the cloudless sky still bright from the recently retired sun.

They stayed awhile like that, resting and enjoying the last rays of daylight. The air here was clear, cloudless above them so that the splendour of the Northern sky lay unveiled above them. As the sun retreated into the horizon, the vibrant golds, reds, and pinks bled away into rich tones of violet blue and velvet black. Stars like gemstones sparkled into life — a collection of glittering amethysts, sapphires, rubies, topazes, emeralds, and diamonds unmatched by anything on earth. What a magnificent stage for what was to come.

Snow crunched as Phichit roused himself. “Come on, Yuuri. Help me get a fire going. It’s freezing and I want to make the tea before the Solstice Lights start!”

Phichit’s energy was infectious as always, and soon they were sat on a dry blanket with their toes pointed to a small fire with a little boiling pot bubbling with tea. Yuuri hugged his cloak around him and watched Phichit stir in his special blend of herbs and spices.

The aroma wafted over them, and Yuuri breathed in the familiar scent. It was five winters ago when Phichit had first introduced it; Over five long cycles since he had left Hasetsu to travel with Celestino Cialdini as a mage apprentice, uncertain and unsure if he would ever succeed.

Life as a mage’s pupil was not easy. Besides his lessons, there was the constant travelling, the impermanence of life on the road, always moving, always adjusting to new towns and new peoples with new expectations and new prejudices. Two cycles into following Celestino in his travels, Phichit had joined them, smiling, bright-eyed, and only fifteen.

Maybe it was his youth, maybe it was his smile, maybe it was the ridiculous nickname that he gave Celestino two weeks into their travels, but Yuuri found himself fast friends with Phichit; and while life didn’t get easier, it was filled with more laughter and more shared burdens.

Now here they were, one cycle away from standing in the Halls of Knowledge in Icewrack, waiting their turn to impress the mages administering their Trials. Success begot admittance into the Order where members would be recognized for their skills and competence in the arcane arts. Life as a mage was not easy, but it was not without its rewards. If you could master the right kind of spells and gain enough trust from people, you can do a lot of good for others.

Yuuri hoped he was up to the task.

“Yuuri, stop worrying.” Phichit’s shoulder bumped into his.

“How’d you know I was thinking about the Trials?” Yuuri pulled his cloak closer around him. It had been a gift from Minako — fox furs over elkskin sewn together to fit comfortably over the shoulders with a hood and clasp made of coral.

Yuuri had watched her select the best pelts from the tanners and painstakingly stitch leather and fur together, weaving her enchantments into it over two winters. Another debt he would never be able to repay.

Phichit tapped at his temple and winked. “I can read your thoughts.”

Yuuri made a face.

Phichit let out a peal of laughter. “You always get that furrow in your forehead when you worry about something,” Phichit tapped in between his eyebrows, “I know the Trials have been on your mind since you failed that conjuring spell last week. But you’re going to get premature wrinkles, Yuuri.”

Yuuri frowned. “It should have been easy. One moving form doing one circle around our heads. But I couldn’t even make its wings move.” Yuuri scowled at the staff in his lap, as if it was at fault. The gnarled wood was smooth from cycles of use and hardened with resin and time. It was old but sturdy. It had been Celestino’s when he had been an apprentice, and Yuuri inherited it now as his.

“Cheer up, Yuuri. I failed too.” Phichit scooped up a ladle full of tea from the pot and poured it back in, humming with satisfaction. “We have a whole cycle — four whole seasons — to practice. I am determined to make hamsters with wings fly circles around Ciao Ciao’s head before the end of winter.”

Yuuri snorted, digging a nail into a groove in his staff. Celestino had argued that winged hamsters weren't a legitimate choice of form, while Phichit stood with wide-eyed earnestness and staunch faith. Yuuri waited as they argued, worrying over the criticism his own poor attempt deserved. Finally, when Celestino  turned to him, exhausted, and merely waved Yuuri’s apologies away and bid him practice for next time, it dawned on Yuuri that Phichit’s adamance had all been a ruse. Yuuri could only return Phichit’s cheeky wink with a grateful smile.

In any case, Celestino hadn’t asked them to show him the spell again yet, and so Phichit’s winged hamsters were safe to take shape for the time being.

“What form were you trying to go for anyway, Yuuri?” Phichit said, rummaging around in his satchel.

Yuuri shrugged. “A bird or something I guess—”

“Argh!” Phichit’s cry of dismay cut him off. “I didn’t bring it. I must have left it back in the inn. I knew I was forgetting something,” he lamented.

Yuuri peered at the upturned contents of Phichit’s satchel scattered around them — money pouch, water canteen, field journal, a pack of charcoal, bits of string. “What did you leave behind?”

“Oh… It was just something special I had gotten for this occasion,” Phichit waved his hand about vaguely. “It was a bottle of _Kolwa_.”

“ _Kolwa?!_ ” Yuuri stared at Phichit in shock.

“It’s fine Yuuri. It was only a small bottle. A vial really. Barely enough for two gulps.” Phichit spoke quickly, hands moving and measuring out the contents of the containers around him. His eyes didn’t meet Yuuri’s.

“But Phichit!” Yuuri stopped and casted a wary eye over his shoulder and around them. The dark edge of a forest loomed to Yuuri’s right, its trees standing silent like sentinels keeping watch over any who dared approach their domain. To Yuuri’s left the plains of snow stretched out, an unbroken sea of white, interrupted only by jagged silhouette of buildings that made up the settlement of Saoul. Already the torches were lit in anticipation of tonight’s festivities. Yuuri had counted sixteen earlier — four baskets of blackened iron the size of the largest cauldrons hoisted aloft on pillars of fire-resistant treated wood on each side of the town’s square. They flickered like pinpricks of candlelight from the center of the buildings, barely visible in the still bright sky.

Yuuri and Phichit were alone in the middle of nowhere, on a hill in an open plain with thousands of paces of nothing but snow around them. Yuuri could have shouted at the top of his lungs and no one would hear him. Yet force of habit and the uneasiness that came with breaking rules caused him to drop his voice. “Where did you even get _Kolwa?_ The Order banned it from public trade and consumption after the Diretide wars.”

Yuuri knew this for a fact. Phichit knew this too. They had learned this two mornings ago when they had studied the list of substances banned or controlled by the Order in preparation for the Trials. Celestino had explained its effects to them again — feelings of euphoria, reckless behaviour, nerve damage, and death in high doses or after prolonged exposure.

“Mages used to take it in small doses because it was believed to have increased sensitivity to magic. But the danger of addiction and overdosing is very real. Being able to sense magic better means nothing if you cannot control it.” Celestino warned them sternly.

“But a mouthful at a time wouldn’t have any lasting effects would it?” Phichit had asked.

“No, but the Order considers it cheating if candidates are found with any controlled substances in their system on the day of their Trial. The risk of a lifetime ban aside, I hope I have trained you both well enough so that you would not feel the need to resort to something like that.” Celestino looked between them, the forelock that always stuck out from his forehead wagging back and forth.

“Of course, Ciao Ciao! Wouldn’t dream of cheating.” Phichit beamed as Yuuri nodded fervently.

That conversation had a less academic connotation now, Yuuri thought as he stared at Phichit, waiting for his answer.

Phichit gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, you know how the first night we were in Saoul, when Ciao Ciao was off having dinner with the town’s mayor and I went to the market to get medicine for you?”

“Yes?” Yuuri had been sick in bed with chills and a fever, consciousness had been a tenuous thing.

“Well, I ran into a...trader. She was the only one who was selling the ingredients for your medicine. She offered me the _Kolwa_ as well. Said it was her own special brew, the best in the North.”

“Saoul is the only town in the North!” Yuuri threw his hands up. Phichit concentrated on the small brewing pot in front of him, stirring slowly in silence. Yuuri sighed. “How do we know it’s safe? Are you sure it was even _Kolwa_ she sold you?”

“Yeah, I tested it that night when I was watching you. It’s pretty good quality. Pure. Well distilled. I thought it might be fun to relax and take it while we watched the Solstice Lights. You’ve been so stressed out with studying and training lately.” Phichit’s dark grey eyes flicked up at Yuuri.

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose as he inhaled, held it, and exhaled slowly. He had been stressed out more than usual. The impending end of his apprenticeship and the looming Trials were causing his anxiety to rear its ugly head. Phichit was stressed out too. He just hid it better. How could Yuuri stay mad at Phichit for trying to help? “How much did it cost you?”

“Huh?” Phichit blinked up at Yuuri.

“The _Kolwa_. I know you send whatever pocket money Celestino gives us home. Since you bought it with me in mind, can I at least help pay for part of it?”

Phichit’s shoulders relaxed, a smile lit up his face, and his eyes shone.

“It doesn’t mean I approve of what you did, okay…” Yuuri fidgeted with the frayed edge of the blanket underneath him, “But—but I still appreciate the thought!” He could feel Phichit’s smile on him still, warm — like the sun. Yuuri’s heart squeezed with fondness. “Well? How much was it?”

Phichit hummed and returned to his stirring. “I traded an Arthur card for it.”

“Phichit! But you love that card. It took you six seasons to find it.” Six seasons of asking Yuuri to keep an eye out for it and talking to every trader in every town they visited.

Phichit looked up at him and grinned. “And I’ll find it again. Searching for it was half the fun.” Phichit set the ladle down, “Here, get a glass out. There’s no _Kolwa_ in it, but it’s still the finest brew of Chulanont fire tea! Let’s just enjoy the spectacular show tonight. Who knows when we’ll travel this far North and be able to see the Lights again?”

Phichit grinned, irrepressible as always. Irresistible. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

Grabbing his staff, Yuuri drew a circle into the fresh snow beside him. Controlling the flow of magic, Yuuri watched as ice crystals knit together, solidifying and taking shape until a cup of ice stood before him — smooth, straight, simple. Satisfied, Yuuri tapped it to keep it frozen and set it next to the steaming pot of tea, waiting for Phichit to complete the finishing touches on his cup.

As Phichit ladled tea into their cups, Yuuri admired the delicate ornamental spirals and whorls etched around Phichit’s only slightly misshapen cup. Phichit always did have a flair for detail, something Yuuri still struggled with despite his cycles of study.

The hot tea bubbled and frothed against the ice. Yuuri cradled it in his hands, feeling the heat seep through the ice to warm his frozen fingers.

“Happy Winter Solstice, Yuuri!”

“Happy Winter Solstice, Phichit.”

They toasted and drank, Yuuri savoring the warm spicy liquid — fiery enough to make his throat tingle, but not enough to burn.

He was just about to compliment Phichit on an excellent brew when Phichit nudged him hard in the ribs.

“Yuuri look! It’s starting!”

Yuuri looked up in time to see the streak of light bleeding a trail of turquoise and purple through the night sky like a watercolour painting. Another streak appeared, slower than the first and spreading out in an orange arc. A third spiralled red into pink before disappearing when a fourth zigzagged into view, leaving a trail of silver. Soon, a fifth and sixth tangoed across the sky, twin streams of yellow and green interwinning into something in between. Before long, the dark night sky was alight with waves of colour, sparkling and shimmering.

“Wow, isn’t this wonderful, Yuuri?”

Yuuri glanced to his side where Phichit sat, eyes riveted up at the iridescent display above them. A smile came easily to Yuuri now.

“Yeah, it’s really something, isn’t it?”

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the dance of light and colour above them. He wondered why more people had not made the trek out here with them, and if they were satisfied with seeing the Solstice Lights from Saoul. From the fullness of the inns and the many strange and varied styles of dress, many had travelled from afar to witness this.

For only in the North could such a spectacle be seen, and only on the Winter’s Solstice. Yuuri wondered why. He made a mental note to look up the star charts in the Order’s archives the next time he was in Icewrack, but the reminder of what his next visit would mean sent a wave of anxiety through him.

“Yuuri, do you remember how Celestino once told us how each star was a dragon’s soul?”

Yuuri breathed deep, grateful for the distraction. “Wasn’t he drunk when he said that? You don’t think there’s actually some truth to it?”

“Why not? My great-grandmother used to tell me a similar tale. She said that if you stole from the sea during the cycle, the sea goddess would send her dragons to snatch you away during the Autumn storms, and you would never see them coming. Because they would come like sea foam upon the waves, part of the sea and powered by it. They would turn you into sea foam too, and you would just dissolve into the water.”

Yuuri shivered. “That sounds awful.”

Phichit chuckled. “It’s just a story. Sure got me into praying for forgiveness and pardon in the temple every Autumn Equinox until I left home.” Phichit fingered the colourful ribbons twined around his staff. Like Yuuri’s, it had been passed down to him. Unlike Yuuri’s, Phichit’s was a family heirloom; once belonging to a beloved great-grandmother.

“Well,” Yuuri said, “if dragons live in the skies and seas, at least they’re safe from the poachers and bounty hunters here.”

“Yes, indeed,” Phichit said emphatically. He tilted his head up. “If dragons are now stars, tonight must be like a party for them. Those guys must be having a ball.”

Yuuri looked to where Phichit was pointing, up at a cluster of white stars above them, growing in size and luminescence every second. There was a rumbling above them, gathering like thunder, monotone in cadence and only getting louder. Yuuri squinted up at the biggest star, bright but not quite blinding. Jagged edges glinted in the moonlight and in the wind, a high whistling sound reached Yuuri’s ears. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as the air around him surged with energy. Yuuri’s eyes widened.

“Phichit! Move!”

Phichit let out a strangled cry as Yuuri grabbed a fistful of his cloak and hauled him away. The shard of ice, as thick as five men and twice as tall, shattered like glass on impact sending a shockwave that knocked them off their feet.

Yuuri’s grip on Phichit loosened as they went tumbling into the snow. Chips of ice pelted his back as Phichit cried out.

Ears ringing, Yuuri gingerly raised his head. There was another deafening crash and then a third. Yuuri buried his head in his arms as showers of ice rained on them. Above the hammering of his heart, Yuuri could hear more rumbling and whistling. They couldn’t stay here.

“Phichit! We have to move!”

Half buried in the snow, Phichit lay prone, his staff clutched to his chest. Yuuri scrambled forward.

“Phichit!” Yuuri yelled, shaking his friend’s shoulder. “Phichit! We can’t stay here! We have to go!”

Phichit lifted his head, terror writ in his face. His eyes were wide, staring up at death falling upon them. There were more on the way. Yuuri cast about for his staff, spying the dark gnarled wood stark against the snow.

He lunged for it, fist closing around the solid wood as he rolled onto his back, coming face to face with a column on ice hurtling towards them. On instinct, Yuuri swung his staff upwards, channeling all his fear and desperation into a blast of ice at it.

Ice collided with ice, and Yuuri gaped as the column of ice disintegrated into a cloud of white. Through the flurry, Yuuri could see yet more shards careening downward on their immutable path towards them.

Yuuri stumbled over to Phichit.

“Phichit,” Yuuri’s voice was a hoarse whisper, but Phichit’s eyes found his. “ _Let’s go._ ” Phichit clenched his jaw and with a nod, Yuuri pulled Phichit to his feet.

They ran for the cover of the trees. Looming like a garrison of guards, the line of trees stood dark and impassive to their plight, watching in silence as Yuuri and Phichit sprinted for the shelter of their snow laden boughs.

Yuuri kept his eyes fixed ahead as his legs plowed through the snow. Close behind, he could hear Phichit’s ragged breaths. Around them, pillars of ice fell.

“Yuuri!” Phichit screamed. Yuuri was yanked backwards as a shard smashed into the ground right in front of him.

“Thanks,” Yuuri gasped, heart hammering a tattoo against Phichit’s arm wrapped around his chest.

They played a deadly game of dodge as they raced down the hill. Yuuri knocked away two more shards, Phichit one more. Each blast was more draining than the last, every spell summoned an exhausting effort.

By the time they hit the plateau and the ground leveled out, Yuuri’s arms were like lead and his legs like jelly. The stitch in his side had returned with a vengeance, and each breath felt like glass scraping the inside of his lungs raw. Yuuri’s fingers were numb with cold and fatigue. The dark line of trees blurred in the distance — still so far away. Only the feel of Phichit’s hand clasped in his kept him going; even as Phichit’s grip loosened and began to slip away.

“Yuuri...” Phichit’s voice was laden with weariness and the debilitating thread of diminishing hope.

Yuuri tightened his grip and put on a burst of speed.

A tell tale rumble sounded above them and Yuuri glimpsed a block of ice the size of a small mountain plunging toward them. With a mighty heave, Yuuri raised his staff, calling forth his magic. His shot hit the block and bounced off — a wisp of icy mist, worthless against a monolith. The block continued, undeterred, spiralling down at them.

Their deaths imminent, despair overwhelmed him, and Yuuri stood paralyzed, helpless in his failure. At the last moment, Phichit cried out and threw himself into Yuuri. The force of the shard hitting the ground sent them flying and Yuuri landed hard on his back.

Dazed and winded, Yuuri opened his eyes to see another shard falling — its tip pointed right at him.

A roar like the rushing of wind filled his ears. Was it Phichit screaming? Or was that his own voice, crying out for help?

Time seemed to slow. Yuuri could see the shard plummeting towards him, his brown eyes and frightened face reflected on a hundred surfaces of the fractal, like some many petaled flower made of crystal.

It was almost poetic, Yuuri thought, to meet his demise by something so beautiful, by the ice that he loved and that he lived by. Yuuri cannot tear his eyes away, cannot close his eyes, cannot shut out the horrific end.

A rush of cold hit Yuuri. The shard of ice frosted over, translucent lines like webs permeating the ice — splintering it. With a ring like the chiming of bells, the shard fractured, disintegrating into icy dust and harmless flakes of snow.

As the snowflakes floated down in lazy circles and landed like butterfly kisses on his cheeks, the clear sky above him is suddenly obscured by a brilliant, blue eye framed in a face of silver.

Yuuri forgot how to breathe, as the eye gazed down at him, seeming to peer into Yuuri’s very soul as he lay, motionless on his back, and exposed to the discerning look he was subject to. It felt like he was being examined, questioned, and queried on his well being; as if the eye had not already scrutinized his very core and knew that he was alright.

 _I am well_.

A blink and the feeling was gone, and Yuuri almost mourned its absence. Except now he was distracted by the face the eye was set in — not human, but not quite beast. The face passed overhead, sculpted head followed by a long elegant neck opening out into shoulders and corded muscle set in a broad, strong chest attached to...wings?

A downward flap sent flurries of snow swirling around Yuuri, and when he opened his eyes, the creature was withdrawing, taloned feet and barbed tail disappearing into the marbled sky above.

Yuuri stared, heart in his mouth and pulse rabbiting, stunned at what he thought — nay, what he _had_ seen. Denial and disbelief assailed him, but more than trusting the evidence of his eyes, it was the lingering feeling of a lost connection that convinced him that he was alive and that what he had seen was truth.

“Yuuri, are you alright?!”

Yuuri felt himself being shaken, as if roused from some deep slumber,  and Phichit’s anxious face filled his view. Worry was etched into the creases of his brow, residual fear lined his mouth, and mingled relief and excitement brimmed his eyes with tears.

“Phichit,” Yuuri whispered.

Phichit closed his eyes, face haggard from the stress of their ordeal. The hands fisting the front of Yuuri’s robes began to tremble, and Yuuri covered them with his own.

Phichit’s eyes flew open. “Yuuri! That was— that—!” Phichit gaped at him, speechless.

Yuuri raised himself up on his elbows and sat up, aware of the silence around him, of the absence of chaos and thunder, of screams supplanted by soft, silently falling snow. Yuuri’s eyes found Phichit’s, watching him, waiting.

“Let’s get back to Saoul.” Yuuri stood, brushing snow and ice off himself. His hands worked to to re-tie his hair into a bun. “Celestino will be worried.” Phichit’s brows creased, and Yuuri looked around, moving to gather his staff which lay a few feet away. His glasses had survived without a scratch. Another miracle.

A hand on his elbow stopped him.

“Yuuri, that just happened, right? You saw it too.”

“Him,” Yuuri corrected, surprising them both with his conviction. Even with reality inarticulable, Yuuri had no doubt, _he_ had saved him. Not a man, not a beast, not something in between; but something else, something _more_ . “Come on, let’s head back. I could use a sip of that _Kolwa_ now. ”

They trudged through the snow,  collecting their scattered belongings from the newly dimpled hillside, already being smoothed away by the steady fall of snow. Nightfall is fast approaching and it is frigid. Even with Minako’s cloak, Yuuri began to shiver.

They hurry back to the city in exhausted silence, minds wrestling with how close they had come to death, and how they were saved. As the bright flares of torches and bonfires came into view, Yuuri threw one last look skyward where the last of the Solstice Lights danced and faded into inky darkness. The skies were empty; innocuous; devoid of danger, and the glimmer of silver dragon wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and will stick around for the next one.
> 
> If you feel up to it, could you do me a favour? If you enjoyed reading this chapter, could you leave a “<3” in the comments for me please? Knowing that my writing brought even a little bit of joy to someone makes all the effort worth it for me.
> 
> Kudos, questions, short comments, long comments, discussions with other readers are always welcome and invited on this fic. You can also leave an anonymous comment on this fic by logging out of ao3. I accept concrit as well, but would please like to ask that you contact me on discord (@ imaginary_dragonling #6267) for that.
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com), [twitter](https://twitter.com/im_dragonling), and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/imaginarydragonling). Sliding into my askbox or DM on tumblr is totally cool :)
> 
> Tumblr post for this chapter is [here](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com/post/178771495727/i-am-fading-i-am-tired-soon-sleep-will-claim).  
> Twitter post for this chapter is [here](https://twitter.com/im_dragonling/status/1048347997103378433).
> 
> Chapter 2: Among the Floating Mountains will go up on October 11, 2018 at 00:00 EST/21:00 PST.


	2. Among the Mountains that Float

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going up a bit ahead of schedule.  
> Yes I changed the title of this chapter.

The humans had seen him.

Victor’s muscles strained against the Earth’s pull as he struggled to escape vertigo. He could hear the humans below him — surprise, shock, disbelief. Scattered thoughts and raw emotions from the one scrambling over the snow to the one he had just saved. Victor quickened his strokes, sensing the Earth fall away as the Wind filled his wings.

Fifteen cycles. For fifteen long cycles, Lilia’s cloaking spell had kept them hidden. As long as they did not fly too near or draw too much attention to themselves, a dragon could be mistaken for a wisp of cloud or a flurry of snow. Fifteen cycles they had lived this way. Fifteen cycles of secrecy. Fifteen cycles of safety. And now he had been seen.

_What have I done?_

He forced himself to breathe.

The Flight had started off well, if slowly. With the setting of the sun, Aerwath’s magic had flooded the Shroud, suffusing it with magic and power. Winter. Spring. Summer. Autumn. Solstice and Equinox. One day of the cycle which belonged to each Elemental God. Tonight belonged to Aerwath. Tonight the night was longest, Aerwath was closest, and his power was strongest. Where the Shroud was thin, Aerwath’s power poured through, filling the air with magic raw enough to taste, potent enough to be seen as bursts of colour across the night sky, before being dissipated and scattered in his winds.

Since before Victor was born, the dragons had learnt how to harvest them, following the streams of energy as they flowed. All in an effort to keep their home nourished, to keep it sustained, to keep it alive. Tonight, they had chased the streams southeast, secure in the knowledge that any humans in the nearby city looking up would not see them.

Georgi had been in charge of the collection nets, freeing Victor to focus on directing the capture efforts. Victor’s jaw clenched as he bit down on the bitter taste of regret.

He should have kept a closer watch on Georgi and his team. He should have noticed that they were loading too fast, should have known that the balance was off, that those handling the nets  weren’t keeping up with the volume of crystals coming in. But he had been distracted, keeping an eye on Yuri as he flew reckless and heedless of the rest of the Flight.

By the time the cries of dismay and panic reached him, it was already too late. The shards had sliced through the nets holding them and were free falling towards the Earth. Victor had dived on instinct, spurred on by the hope that he could still save some sliver of them. It was a fool’s hope.

Victor could only watch as hours of work went to waste, falling to the snow-covered land below where they smashed and shattered on impact, releasing the magic within.

The cries of distress had been like a shard through the heart. Horrified that the Earth below was not wholly empty, that some poor creature was about to be crushed and pay the price of his negligence, Victor had not spared another thought.

He had only just been in time. His breath had caught the shard a dragon length before it met its mark. Only when he peered through the flakes of ice and snow had it registered that the face he was staring at was _human_.

Victor’s stomach lurched and his head spun with nausea. Could he have done something different? Should he have stayed hidden?

Soft brown eyes filled with fear flashed in his mind.

That human would have died.

Victor shook his head. Between a human’s life and staying hidden, Victor had made his choice. Whether it would lead to the undoing of them all hung like a deadweight in his chest. But there was no one that could give him counsel. Not Yakov, not Lilia, not Georgi, not Mila, not—

_Victor!_

Victor’s head snapped up, pulse racing. Yuri — headstrong, fierce, impulsive Yuri — had broken off from the rest of the dragons and followed after him. Yuri bore down on him like a storm — wild, furious, and unstoppable in his advance. Victor fought to keep the panic at bay, urging his wings to bring him higher, to put as much distance between himself and the humans, praying that Yuri didn’t look down, didn’t see—

_Victor, stop spacing out! Did you manage to save anything?_

Emerald green eyes pinned him with a stare, unyielding in their demand. Victor blinked and regarded Yuri blankly, watching as the expression on the youngest dragon of the Ice Wyverns soured further. Clearing his foremind of thoughts, Victor projected instead an air of cool aloofness as he swept past Yuri and continued his ascent. He swept past Yuri with ease, coming dangerously close to the smaller dragon so that Yuri had to concentrate on dealing with his slipstream, would focus his attention on Victor, wouldn’t have time to look down and see _them_.

Yuri let out a curse, halting his forward momentum as he worked to stabilize in the wake of Victor’s flight stream. Victor could feel the annoyance and anger radiating off Yuri. He was furious at being ignored and Victor’s stunt would be viewed as a challenge, an act of war, one that would require single-minded retribution.

Victor’s mouth curled into a smile. _Good._

By the time Yuri drew abreast of him, flapping furiously to keep up with Victor’s greater wingspan, Victor had his thoughts and emotions under control again. Yuri shot him a death glare which Victor cooly returned.

Before Yuri could speak again, Victor said, _What’s done is done. Crying over shattered crystal will not bring them back._ Out of the corner of his eye, Victor saw Yuri glance down, head dropping to look at the pockmarked land beneath them. _Heads up, Yuri. There’s a stream up ahead._

It was faint, wispy pale and translucent pink — a thin vein in the Shroud but capturable no less. Truth be told, it was hardly worth the effort, but it was something to focus on, something to occupy Yuri with. Besides, the dragons needed every bit of magic they could crystallize.

Victor adjusted the angle of his approach, tracking the ebb and flow of the stream. He picked out a section where the stream was thick, shimmery pink deepening into magenta with golden swirls threading through it like smoke. Timing his breaths, Victor released a controlled stream of air, freezing and binding the magic into crystals. He looped around the stream, rotating and revolving around the air current with grace and speed. Peripherally, Victor was aware of Yuri doing the same, the pale gold dragon performing the maneuver with carefree abandon and an aura of vicious intensity that dared any onlooker to do better, that challenged them to match him. Such were the ways of Yuri Dragonborn, grandson of their leader Yakov; only fifteen.

When the arc of magic began to taper off, Victor halted his breath and finished his last revolution, extending his wings to to sail above the newly formed crystal where it hung, thrumming with energy. Captured in this form, the magic was contained, bound, and transported back to Nebogori where they would bury them among the rocky roots of the mountains.

Now fully frozen, the crystal stilled and began to fall, forward point tipping downward. Before it could drop any further, Victor extended his back limbs and caught the shard, the claws of his right leg closing comfortably around it as his wings adjusted to the new weight.

Glancing over his shoulder, Victor saw Yuri coming up behind him, a larger shard grasped in his claws. Yuri smirked at him.

_What’s up old man? Tired already?_

Victor smiled brightly.

_Well done, Yuri. I see that you’ve started listening to Yakov and keeping your wings tucked in. Although, he would tell you that the fourth revolution was unnecessary. Three was more than enough to trap the arc you were going for and adding the fourth was impulsive. You should conserve energy when you can. Keep your head and don’t lose perspective of the situation._

Yuri scowled. _You and Yakov can go suck it. I’m fit and strong enough to be doing quads all day if I want to. What is there to consider when we are masters of the skies?_

Victor only laughed, flipping on his back to face Yuri before tossing his shard to the younger dragon. Yuri startled and back winged, managing to catch it and glaring at Victor for the lack of warning.

Victor grinned back. They had reached the rest of the Flight and the palpable panic and disorder among them was reminiscent of an insistent wave pounding on Victor, demanding his attention.

_Go find Mila and add those to the pile to bring back. I will see you back in Nebogori._

A grunt was all he got in response, and Victor watched, a fond smile on his face, as Yuri obeyed, wings straining with his double burden yet unwilling to admit defeat or ask for help. When Victor could no longer hear Yuri’s stream of curses about silver dragons and airheaded leaders, Victor let out a breath, some of his mental facade dropping.

What would Yuri say, if he knew that Victor had shown himself to save the life of a human? Would he understand? Or, Victor shuddered, would he consider it a betrayal, unforgivable and absolute?

_Victor, we only recovered twenty more. Should we follow the streams south?_

_Victor, should we turn home? It is almost nightfall and the streams are thinning._

_Do we send for the others to return and keep flying, Victor?_

Victor exhaled deeply, steeled the barrier between his inner and outer mind, and locked the thoughts plaguing him behind it. The others didn’t need more to worry about. They needed confidence, calm, competence. They needed Victor to wear the badge he had been born with, to be the savior they all expected him to be.

His fears would have to wait. The humans had definitely seen him, and there was nothing he could do about it. At least, not right now.

Victor called out, _Capture what you can here. We will gain little from chasing the streams south. If your nets are full, prepare to return home. We will fly another day._

For the next several hours, Victor moved through the ranks, dispensing orders and encouragement around him until the streams waned and the veins of magic faded. The Flight was over, the final tally of the day’s efforts paltry. Without what they had lost, their haul would be barely enough to sustain Nebogori for a season.

Victor sighed quietly to himself, careful not to let any of his worries and disappointment leak through to the public sphere of his mind, where the others brushed against, seeking guidance and reassurance.

The moon had fully risen by the time Nebogori came into view. As always, Victor’s heart clenched, spirits rising at the sight of the familiar snow-capped peaks. The chain of spires and mountains floated in the air; surrounded by the cloud mist that clung to it, forever present. Nestled in the center of the main mountain range that curved like the crescent moon, the lake glinted like a mirror, reflecting the icy peaks that glistened and sparkled with the light from the stars dancing above them. Like pointed fingers or jagged teeth, Nebogori’s roots hung from below, extended towards the Earth, reaching for the bedrock from which they rose, and to which they would return one day as dust and rubble.

In days of yore, Nebogori was twice its current size, with mountains that teemed with dragons, their homes burrowed into every cliff and spire. Now, Nebogori lay mostly silent, once lively homes hollow, empty, reclaimed by the ice and snow.

Currently, all activity was concentrated in the flattened piece of land by the lake. There, the dragons who had gone ahead were busy sorting through the crystal shards they had returned with. Victor pulled up and slowed, hovering as he watched the last of the Flight fall in line and head towards the landing bowl.

_Vitya._

Yakov’s voice boomed, expected but not entirely welcome. Victor kept flying, sending praise and encouragement to the last of the dragons as they reached the landing bowl with their burdens.

_Artem bring what you have to the west side and find Nikolai. They are shoring up homes there and could use them._

_Vitya._

_Sofia, nice and steady. Those shards have come a long way. It would be a pity to drop them now._

_VICTOR._

Several heads whipped around, startled, and Sofia dropped the shard she had been carrying. Victor swooped in and caught the crystal, passing it back to Sofia with a soothing hum. Once she had steadied, stammering apologies, Victor wheeled and turned toward the summons.

 _I’m coming,_ Victor huffed.

Yakov glowered at him but said nothing further. Victor flapped vigorously to work through some of the annoyance prickling in him.

Yakov was impossible to miss. He perched, rigid, on the outcrop of rock overlooking the landing bowl, ignoring the wide berth and furtive glances the others gave him. For forty cycles, Yakov had shouted instruction and direction to the operations of landing, distributing, and transporting the crystals from his ledge. But now, Yakov stood still and silent, heedless of the hectic activity below and around him. Victor had grown up hearing, watching, and then ignoring Yakov’s bellows, and he found Yakov’s lack of bluster now unnerving. Even more ominous were the wisps of storm clouds roiling around Yakov’s feet like smoke.

Victor filled his foremind with busy thoughts and observations of the unloading and dispersions around them, taking his time to glide downwards in lazy spirals. Though he didn’t call out to Victor again, Yakov’s gaze stayed locked on him throughout.

Victor did his best to ignore him — no easy feat, even with a lifetime of practice. What Yakov lacked in physical size and mass, he more than made up for with presence and strength of mind. Victor could admit to adding a few grey scales to the crown of Yakov’s head, but the gnarled claws and smooth windshorn edges of his wings belonged to a lifetime of struggle and hardships. The monumental task of keeping Nebogori afloat was akin to holding up the sky. It was an unfathomable and unbearable burden to carry alone.

When he could no longer ignore Yakov’s pointed silence, Victor chanced a glance his way. Yakov gave no acknowledgement other than a single, brief, extension of his wing to the empty space on his right — a clear enough command that Victor should land and join him, posthaste. With the landing area emptying and bereft of excuses to keep aloft, Victor dipped his wings and finished his descent, alighting next to Yakov with a clatter of claws on rock.

Victor peered at the landing bowl below, a model of supervisory concentration, as the last of the dragons scattered with their allocated ration of crystals, hurrying to their homes for rest and recuperation until Victor and Yakov were left alone.

The wisps of storm clouds around Yakov rumbled.

_Vitya, what happened?_

The edge of restraint in Yakov’s tone was brittle. Victor chose his words carefully.

_There was a momentary lapse in concentration._

Yakov’s self restraint, already stretched and strained, snapped.

_Gods damn you, Vitya. I may be aged but I am not dulled yet. The wyverns on net collection duty were distraught and Georgi’s distress was enough to drown half a mountain, even with Mila’s cover._

Victor exhaled with a hiss.

 _No one was hurt, Yakov_.

_With what we salvaged, we are going to lose a third of the south side. We’ll have to move the families from there before the mountains fall. Georgi has cost us—_

_It wasn’t his fault._

Yakov exhaled in exasperation. _Vitya. I understand that Georgi was attached to Anya. And really, what was she thinking breaking up with him so close to the solstice… But it’s no excuse for getting distracted. Tell Georgi to get his head on right for the next Flight, or else he’s grounded._

Victor remained mute.

_Vitya? I will tell him if—_

_I’ll tell him._ Victor beat back the emotions that surged within him. With an effort, too much effort, Victor tried to keep calm, sweet, pliant. _Anything else you’d like me to say to him?_

Yakov’s teal eyes bore into Victor. Victor examined his talons, unwilling to meet his eyes. Yakov sighed, long and low and loud; and it was like the passing of a rainstorm — the air was still thick with unspoken things, but the worst was past, and they could begin anew.

_Yuri says you were close to Saoul when the shards fell. Did the humans notice anything?_

Victor kept his breathing even. Yakov did not know. As far as Victor was aware, he was the only one who knew that the magic that kept the dragons hidden had been broken, if only for a few moments.

Sitting this close to Yakov, Victor teetered on the edge of admission and tasted the relief of telling the truth, of divulging what had happened — how he had thrown off the magic that hid them to save a life of a human. Humans, who had no magic in their veins, were quick to anger and slow to understand, who might hunt them out of fear or revenge.

Of all the dragons in the world, Yakov knew him best. When Victor first opened his eyes among the Crashing Storms, Yakov had been there to greet him. Yakov had taken him back to Nebogori, visited him in the creche, and taken him under his wing. Surely he deserved the truth from Victor? Surely Victor could confide in him? Couldn’t he?

_Vitya?_

Belatedly, Victor realized that he had been silent for too long. He raised his eyes to meet Yakov’s, taking in the empty landing below. The ancient walls were crumbling around them, the few surviving trees stretched their barren branches towards the lake which lay still and smooth as glass, void of even the ghost of a ripple. The only other signs of life were the spiky blades of grass, the only thing hardy enough to eke out a living between the cracked rock of the cliffs and the bone dry sand that formed a thin beach around the lake.

It used to be so different. The night of the winter solstice used to be a time of gathering and renewal. Ice Wyverns would gather from afar to celebrate Aerwath and the replenishment of his magic. They would enjoy the influx of magic into the Shroud as nothing more than passive observers, much like the humans below do. Memories would be shared, stories told and retold, history and legend passed down to the next generation so that they might live it and remember; so that they would not forget.

Victor looked out from the claw-scraped ledge on which they stood, smooth from centuries of dragon leaders standing watch over the bowl. Unbidden, a memory surfaced in his mind, one that Yakov had shared with him on that very spot when he had been but a fledgling, just only beginning to learn how to shift forms.

The walls around him stayed shabby and decrepit, but there was more life in the bowl below. Moon blooms ringed the trees that grew, tall and straight, reaching for the sky. Their arms were full, silver and gold leaves glinting in the moonlight and chiming like bells in the wind as they swayed to the gentle breeze. The sussuration of the reeds by the lake as the wind caressed them added to the melody, and the scent of fruit and flowers imbued the air.

The liveliest things were the dragons, their mirth and joy infectious as they gathered in groups of twos or threes or more. Some laughed at the fish leaping from the lake, intent on catching the fireflies which taunted them above the water; Others watched the youngsters chase butterflies in human form, their hands holding nets — game, challenge, and practice all at once.

The gleam of burnished gold caught Victor’s eye, and he watched as Lilia descended, gliding effortlessly into the bowl. A dragon length above ground, Lilia shifted, a brief flurry of ice and snow before human feet appeared and Lilia landed in human form, her bearing no less upright and regal. Their attention was directed up again at the young dragon preparing to imitate the maneuver and after a brief nod from Lilia, the dragon followed, the snow storm impressively controlled for one so young. Lime-green eyes glimmered with pride as the girl succeeded, the smile on her face radiant from gaining her mother’s approval. Lilia hugged her, her face soft with fondness, and over her daughter’s head, Lilia’s eyes met his and she beckoned him to come.

Victor watched like the intruder he was as Yakov sprung from the ledge, the warmth in Yakov’s chest causing his heart to ache. Yakov shifted in midair, changing forms to join them so that by the time he landed, he had wingless arms to wrap around the daughter jumping into them and fingers to thread through fine dark hair so much like her mother’s while eyes as blue as his greeted him with joy. As Yakov pressed his forehead to hers, her laughter rang in his ears even as she called him _papa_.

The memory faded and the present day’s landing bowl came back into focus — empty and silent. Afraid that Yakov might hear, Victor buried the memory deep in the hidden shadows of his mind. There it sat, a reminder of what once was and what has been lost. There, she was safe. There, she was alive. Here, Victor sat alone with Yakov, and the silence was deafening.

 _No one was hurt, Yakov_ , Victor said again, slowly.

There was enough to worry about. Yakov did not need worry about Victor’s mistakes. Yakov, who was there when it happened. Yakov, who counseled for concealment. Yakov, who believed this was their best course for survival. Yakov, who only once admitted that he wished for revenge. Yakov, who still grieved for the loss of a daughter.

Yakov did not need to know.

But Yakov knew him, and his eyes narrowed.

_Vitya. Our people need to be able to fly freely, to search, and to return unimpeded with crystals. The most bountiful day of the cycle is over now. And we are lacking. Nebogori is barren, its roots are drying up, breaking and falling. We will not survive another cycle at this rate._

_I know, Yakov. I know._ The deterioration had been alarmingly swift in the past few cycles. It hung over Victor like a cloud, it hung over them all like a cloud, seeping like a corrosive fog into every aspect of their lives, leeching the life and happiness out of them. Victor shuffled to the side, shifting his weight to his legs. _Don’t worry. I will keep our people safe._

With that, Victor spread his wings and took off from the ledge, flying towards his home until he was out of Yakov’s sight before dipping between the mountains and veering towards Mila’s. Victor reached out and sensed Georgi and Yuri with her.

For all their talents and skills, there was not a discrete bone between the three of them. Victor snorted. Despite the events of the Flight, perhaps because of the events of the Flight, Victor could sense the resolve in each of them to continue with tonight’s plan. Victor could hear Mila scheming, overriding Georgi’s weak protests as Yuri scoffed and declared that he was going anyway and that nothing could stop him. Landing at the doorway of Mila’s home, Victor rapped on their consciousness, announcing his presence.

_Gather what you need. We’re going to Saoul tonight._

 

* * *

 

The sensation of silk sliding over bare skin sent a shiver through Victor. The shirt was black, woven with spider’s silk and more intricate than it appeared at first glance. The alternating panels of fine mesh and solid cloth were woven in a fluid design, encouraging the eye to keep moving. Victor pulled the sash tight across his waist, his fingers caressing the crystals that adorned his right shoulder and hip. The half skirt flared out, its underside red even under the moonlight.

The shirt fit Victor’s body like a glove — a body with blunt nails instead of claws, fine hair instead of fur, an upright back, a missing tail, absent horns, and a dearth of membrane stretching between his back and fore limbs. Victor has done this enough times that the change no longer bothered him. It could be disconcerting, being constrained like this, muting the magic within and around to shift into a smaller, less magical form. Victor knew that quickest way to help the discomfort pass was to ignore it. Others were not so enlightened.

“Why,” Yuri bit out, struggling with the garment enshrouding his head, “is this necessary?” Yuri’s head popped free, face red and blond locks in disarray. He struggled with the armholes of the tunic until Mila came to his rescue.

“It’s camouflage, Yuri,” Mila said, pulling strings until Yuri’s small form was not swallowed up shapeless by the material. “Beside, I think it’s rather fun to dress up like this once in a while, don’t you think?” Mila twirled on the spot, long skirts flaring out around her and brushing against Yuri.

“Ugh, get away, baba,” Yuri flapped his arms at Mila, except that the usual effect was lost without his wings. Yuri stopped mid stroke, nose scrunching in a grimace. “This is so _weird_.”

Mila let out a snort of laughter at Yuri’s confused expression and Victor hid his smile as he bent to pick up Yuri’s cloak.

“You’ll get used to it,” Victor soothed, draping the cloak around Yuri’s narrow shoulders and securing the clasp holding the heavy furs in place.

Yuri wrinkled his nose. “Do we have to wear skins? Why are the Voiceless so...barbaric?”

 _They do it out of need and for protection against the elements. To abstain, even though we find it abhorrent, would single us out_ , Victor said. “You do want to go, right?” Victor looked Yuri in the eyes, testing his resolve.

The question drove his point home. It was enough of a threat to give Yuri pause, cause him to hold his tongue and swallow his belligerence where it sat, smouldering behind emerald eyes which flickered with annoyance and trepidation. For a moment, Victor faltered, considered calling this whole thing off and herding them all home. Was it really wise to let Yuri come with them? Could he really stop him? Should he?

Yuri’s eyes narrowed at Victor’s still hand on his shoulder.

“Oi, airhead,” Yuri growled. “You’re not thinking of backing out and calling this off, are you?” The ferocious glare Yuri fixed him with was enough to melt glaciers. Victor pulled himself together and put on a smile.

“Just thinking about how big you’ve grown, Yuri.”

Victor gave Yuri’s cloak one last pat and ruffled Yuri’s hair. Aghast, Yuri batted his hand away, scowling as he combed fingers through his fine jaw-length hair. Victor ran a hand through his own silver tresses, much longer than Yuri’s and hanging like a veil past his waist. Victor debated asking Georgi for something to tie it back with, turning to the two bodies huddled together behind him before deciding against it. “Mila, Georgi, are you ready?”

“Almost…” Mila sang, where she stood leaning over Georgi and wiping away smudged human paint and powder on his face. “There,” Mila stepped back, “Now you won’t frighten the children.” Mila grinned, flipping her dark red hair over her shoulder as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“Do I look alright?” Georgi blinked up at them, long dark lashes framing anxious azure eyes — pools of blue several shades deeper than Victor’s own, and so much more expressive. Victor had always associated the blue of Georgi’s eyes with the sweet joyful lift of a clear summer sky, heavy with the scents of the Earth and dreams of far off places. But too often these days were Georgi’s beautiful eyes rimmed with red, and Victor cursed Anya for her callous treatment of Georgi’s heart.

“Very handsome, Georgi,” Victor said, reaching forward to tuck a wayward strand that had fallen from Georgi’s quiff back into place. Georgi stared up at Victor, and there was something in his eyes, something blank and buried and that cried out to Victor, begging to be answered.

Victor hesitated. Gently, tentatively, Victor nudged Georgi with his mind, threading his way past the tangled murkiness of Georgi’s foremind and stopping when he brushed up against the fragile walls that held Georgi’s emotions at bay. Their human forms blurred the mental connection, making it less...intimate, but even then, Victor could feel the swell of sorrow behind Georgi’s public walls leaking through; swirling and churning like a river impeded, damned up behind walls that were cracked and hastily made, threatening to break under the pressure, to pour out and sweep him away.

Victor retreated. For what could he do to help Georgi stem the tide and stop such an overwhelming flood? What words of comfort could Victor offer, when he couldn’t even profess to understand what Georgi was going through, to say that he understood heartbreak and rejection?

Victor broke eye contact, fiddling with the braids in Georgi’s hair until he felt Georgi’s gaze shift, watching Mila fussing over Yuri across the glade from them. Victor had never felt so powerless, so helpless, so alone.

This was _Georgi_ , a dragon he had known from the crib. Born a day apart, they had grown up in the nursery together, learning to walk, talk, and fly side by side. Even after Lilia started taking a more active role in Victor’s training and when Victor spent longer hours trailing Yakov, they had remained close. Victor would find himself outside Georgi’s home sometimes, Makkachin in tow and a story about how the scent from the sugar plum trees from Gerogi’s garden must have lured them there.

Georgi never seemed to mind, welcoming Victor in with only the faintest hint of astonishment, as if Victor showing up unannounced on his doorstep was something of a surprise, no matter how often Victor did it over the cycles. And Victor would fall asleep listening to Georgi’s stories about what the dragons did by the lake that day, or how they had explored a new cave, and who was making eyes at whom. Georgi had a talent for telling stories, and Victor let the vivid images and tangible emotions wash over him, sinking into the tales Georgi spun. It was almost as good as being there himself, and it was far better than the silent walls and cold empty spaces of his own abode.

Rare now was the day that they flew together, what with Victor’s duties keeping him busy, and once Georgi started seeing Anya, Victor had not wanted to intrude. When they had broken up, what had Victor done? Avoided Georgi, kept himself neutral, impartial, dispassionate in that very public debacle, as was expected and proper for an Earthborn such as himself, and for the future leader of their clan. _Useless._

“Victor, I… What happened earlier…” Georgi’s gaze flicked to Victor before dropping to settle on his lap where his fingers twisted themselves into knots. “A-Anya always said I was useless at—”

_Damn Anya._

“Georgi,” Victor cleared his throat, “It’s fine. No one blames you. These things happen. I settled it with Yakov. You need not fear his retribution. So, relax, and let’s enjoy tonight, alright?” Victor smiled, bright and brilliant and sure.

Georgi’s wobbly reply smile was a pale imitation, but the last of his tears drained away, and his eyes soon turned clear.

Victor let out a breath in relief. He moved away, rummaging in the pile of furs that were his and Georgi’s cloaks for his gloves. Finding them, Victor pulled them on and tossed Georgi’s cloak to him. “Let us make haste. We have but a few hours before daybreak.”

The rise in the others’ spirits at his words, of challenge, anticipation, and excitement for this forbidden expedition only contrasted with the sinking feeling in his stomach. _Remember why you’re here._

Victor flung the fur cloak over his shoulders and secured it. Once he had helped Yuri with his boots, Victor stood and looked at his companions: Georgi, with something other than sorrow sparking in his eyes; Mila, bubbling with excitement and barely keeping her eyes from shining; and Yuri, too young to be on an excursion like this but too stubborn to stay behind. Victor smiled, and prayed to Aerwath that He would keep them safe. A murmur of a breeze was all he got in reply.

Victor pulled his hood over his head and led the others away from the snow laden branches of the copse of trees, trudging through the snow until their feet found the foot-worn path towards Saoul, muddy and rutted beneath the fresh layer of snow. As they drew closer to the collection of box-like dwellings which humans built for habitation, Victor felt Emlya’s magic ebb and fade. Victor breathed in the air around him, letting the cold of winter fill his lungs and seep into his bones.

The flicker of flames rising from the center of Saoul swallowed up the Moon’s light and cast an orange glow on the land. Long and dark were the shadows around them as they slipped between silent and empty dwellings. As they drew near to the city’s center, Victor could hear the ring of laughter and music beckoning them to come forth from the darkness and join the revelry. The humans may not know of or worship the same gods, but their joy was genuine and long had it been since Victor remembered greeting the Winter Solstice with more than just worry and disappointment. Despite himself, Victor could feel his own excitement rising. It had been many cycles since he had mingled with humans, but he remembered curious devices and lively spirits. Home and all that is familiar was behind them, and there was magic of a different kind where they were going.

Just before they slipped into the circle of light and allowed themselves to be enveloped in the current of moving bodies, Victor sent out one last thought to Yuri, Mila, and Georgi.

_Aerwath watches over us. We are dragons, but tonight, we walk in the world of Men._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re going in ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ Three guesses for who Victor meets next ^^
> 
> If you feel up to it, could you do me a favour? If you enjoyed reading this chapter, could you leave a “<3” in the comments for me please? Knowing that my writing brought even a little bit of joy to someone makes all the effort worth it for me.
> 
> Kudos, questions, short comments, long comments, discussions with other readers are always welcome and invited on this fic. You can also leave an anonymous comment on this fic by logging out of ao3. I accept concrit as well, but would please like to ask that you contact me on discord (@ imaginary_dragonling #6267) for that.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr, twitter, and pillowfort. Sliding into my askbox or DM on tumblr is totally cool :)
> 
> Tumblr post for this chapter is [here](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com/post/178969262344/watch-me-catch-the-sky).  
> Twitter post for this chapter is [here](https://twitter.com/im_dragonling/status/1050594500605702147).
> 
> Chapter 3: In the City will go up on October 18, 2018 at 00:00 EST/21:00 PST.


	3. In the City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, questions, short comments, long comments, discussions with other readers are always welcome and invited on this fic. You can also leave an anonymous comment on this fic by logging out of ao3. I accept concrit as well, but would please like to ask that you contact me on discord (@ imaginary_dragonling #6267) for that.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr, twitter, and pillowfort. Sliding into my askbox or DM on tumblr is totally cool :)

Saoul was not as he remembered it. The streets were grimier, the shops dingier, the residents more sinister. He remembered only excitement and adventure from his foray almost ten years ago, none of this caution and hesitancy. Had so much changed since then? Or had the city remained the same and it was Victor who had changed — was he becoming old? Losing his edge, as Yuri said? Was he becoming, dare he say it, _responsible?_

A flash of movement caught his eye. The girl in the plum dress twirled in the periphery of his vision, skirts swirling and long dark curls bouncing as she threw her head back in exaggerated laughter at the whispers in her ear from her overeager partner. Her cheeks were rosy from dancing, her brow damp with sweat, and her chest heaved with exertion in the breath-warmed air. As she pulled her fingers through the ribbons adorning her hair, Victor felt her eyes slide over the suitors surrounding her and glance his way.

Victor raised his tankard of beer, letting the cool liquid wet his lips as he pretended to swallow. Victor was no stranger to attention. Whether platonic, romantic, or sycophantic, he had received more than his fair share of it, no doubt because he was an Earthborn. Rather than disappoint his admirers when he inevitably failed to live up to their expectations, Victor found that it was better to distance himself, to deflect before any feelings got hurt, before anyone got too close.

Victor took a gulp of the bittersweet drink. Distance, deflection, discouragement. They were second nature to him now, dissuading any would be suitors with minimal heartbreak. He would have to lead them one day, a difficult enough task without the added burdens of broken hearts and bruised egos.

The most difficult were always the ones in love, or the ones who believed they were. Usually pretending not to notice them worked, but this girl was persistent. When he lowered his drink, the girl’s attention had been demanded elsewhere and Victor breathed a sigh of relief.

The musicians played and Victor sank into the chatter and laughter around him. The whole of Saoul seemed to be turned out here. Leaning against the high bar table fencing the perimeter of the city square, Victor watched as the humans pulled friends and lovers to join the dancing, or left to catch their breath and continue whatever connection they had made whilst in motion. The heavy aromas of human foods wafted from the stalls behind the tables, almost strong enough to mask the odor of sweat and human bodies. Victor considered going for a second slice of minced pie.

While his stomach tried to persuade him, Victor’s eyes continued to flit from face to face as his mind brushed against those around him, lingering only long enough to confirm their unfamiliarity and never long enough to invite conversation.

Humans were a loud lot. With the solution to keeping one’s thoughts private as simple as keeping your mouth shut, mentally shielding your thoughts and keeping public and private thoughts separated was an unnecessary art. Human minds were therefore brash, uncouth, and easily unfocused. Victor’s head ached with the dissonance and lack of decorum. Yet he continued to listen. With his eyes, ears, and mind, Victor searched, fruitlessly, for black hair, brown eyes, and a keen mind. His second target was less defined, his features less distinct in his mind, but Victor felt sure that he would recognize them both if he could catch even a glimpse of them.

But even with his continued failure in locating them, Victor found that what was most disconcerting to him was the absence of even a whisper of dragons amongst the humans. He would have expected the news of a dragon sighting to have spread like wildfire and to be the talk of the city by now. But while the old dames and boisterous men discussed the weather and how spectacular tonight’s Solstice Lights had been, there had been no mention of falling shards or dragons. Had those humans told no one? Why not? Surely they would have told their fellow men of such an extraordinary occasion? Yet the people of Saoul carried on as if the evening’s earlier events had never happened; as if they had forgotten that dragons ever existed.

Victor’s eyes strayed to one of the pamphlets nailed to the table. From what he could gather, it said,

**Reward!**

**A handsome bounty for information on dragons, basilisks, griffins, … or any magical beasts.**

**Look for…**

The rest was a mystery. No one seemed to read that far or pay enough attention to it for Victor to understand. The seal of a family crest was stamped in one corner, its design overwrought and bursting with self-assuredness. It was clearly recognizable, a guarantee of some sort, even if the insignia and script were foreign to Victor.

Victor meditated on its message. So, dragons were not forgotten. Not entirely. Victor brooded.

“Victor! Whoops!” Victor caught Georgi just in time as he stumbled on the uneven stones. Georgi’s breath was warm and laced with alcohol, but the dark cloud of gloom that had hung about him in recent times was absent, leaving Georgi’s eyes clear and bright.

“Georgi,” Victor said, a smile on his lips, as Georgi righted himself.

“Thanks, Victor.” Georgi brushed at his pants before turning with shining eyes to Victor. “Have you heard _Carabosse_ from the tale of the Sleeping Beauty?” Georgi waved towards the corner of the square from where he had spent the better part of the night. Over the hum of the crowd and dance music, Victor heard the idle twang of a stringed instrument.

Victor hummed in consideration. “I can’t say that I have, Georgi.”

Georgi’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s a delightful piece! So emotive! So grand!” Georgi turned back towards the bard who had refreshed himself and was beginning to strum a slow insistent tune on his instrument. “He’s starting again! It’s going to be the part where the princess gets woken up. I must go!”

Georgi released Victor and flung himself back into the gathering crowd, leaving Victor with a fond smile on his face. When he could no longer pick out Georgi’s quiff and long dark braid amid the throng of people, Victor turned his eyes back towards the main dancing square and was met with the hooded gaze of the girl in the plum dress. She gave him a brilliant smile which Victor returned on reflex. A mistake, as she began to nudge her way through the crowd towards him.

Victor casted about the sea of dancers and spotted a head of wavy, shoulder-length hair — deep red and dancing like fire. Victor placed his tankard down and slid into the mass of bodies. When the girl finally made her way to the edge of the square, Victor was not there to witness her disappointed, searching gaze, looking for the man with silver hair and eyes that shone like ice.

“May I cut in?” Victor flashed the boy whose arms encircled Mila a dazzling smile. The youth gaped and loosened his grip. Victor smoothly inserted himself and whisked Mila away, heedless of the groans and protests from the queue of onlookers patiently waiting their turn.

“Victor, what are you doing?” Mila laughed, matching Victor’s longer stride as he guided them deeper into the whirl of dancers, their steps perfectly in time to the music.

“I thought I was doing you a favour. Not one of them seemed remotely interesting,” Victor said, leading them to a section of the square where the music was quieter, each pair of dancers more wrapped up in each other.

Mila huffed and rolled her eyes. “None of them may have had an ounce of magic in their veins, but one or two of them were very cute.” Mila pouted, eyeing Victor and daring him to disagree.

“Were they now?” Victor hummed, releasing Mila to spin her.

“You would agree if you paid any attention,” Mila said, returning to his embrace. Mila’s smile became strained. _Victor, what’s wrong? You’ve been distracted all night._

Victor’s walls shot up, opaque, on instinct. Mila raised an eyebrow, and Victor sighed, caught red handed.

_You know that you can talk to me, right?_

Mila’s deep blue eyes caught the light from the fires roaring in baskets lofted around the square, making them glitter with mirth and the steel of her will. The air around them was heavy, warm and moist from the exchange of breaths and the beating of hearts. Victor breathed in the perfume Mila had sprinkled herself with earlier, the scent mingling with her own to become something headier and far more potent than any sweet honey wine.

In the dusky luminescence of flames born from oil-soaked torches, Mila was radiant, ethereal. Her skin shone with a sheen of sweat, her cheeks were rosy from dancing, and she was happy, thrilled at tonight’s escapade, young and eighteen and carefree for once; as she should be.

She was the closest thing he had to a sister, a confidante, a friend. In his lonely world of acquaintances, of teachers and followers, of his pedestaled existence as an Earthborn, Mila had always been frank with him — open, direct, light on deference. There was a smile on her face now. It was kind, understanding, and tinged with something else Victor could not place.

Victor dipped Mila who followed, pliant in his arms. When she was upright again, her smile was still present, still waiting for Victor’s answer.

Victor let out a laugh. _I can’t fool you, can I?_ Mila’s smile only deepend. Drawing a breath, Victor teetered on the edge of indecision for one last time before taking the plunge. _There were humans where the shards fell._

The memories flashed through his mind, showing Mila what had happened — his helplessness as he watched the shards fall, the screams, the fear, his choice to act. Two faces filled Victor’s mind’s eye — one with skin tanned from rays stronger than the pale winter sun’s, black hair and grey eyes frozen in a silent scream. The other had dark, messy hair, fair skin, and blue eyeglasses framing mahogany brown eyes round with fear and wonderment; eyes that saw Victor, watched him, answered him. Victor tightened his grip around her as Mila faltered, eyes widening with horror.

 _They_ saw _you?_

Victor nodded, giving Mila’s hand a slight squeeze as she looked around, eyes wild and fearful. Mila quieted her motions, keeping her face towards Victor as he led them in their dance, her posture stiff and steps stilted.

_Easy, Mila. The news does not seem to have spread._

Victor guided them away from the slow eddy of coupled bodies and into the crowd of standees ringing a faster, livelier section of the dance square.

No longer distracted with dancing, Mila’s grip on his arm tightened and she hissed, _Victor_ , _what are we going to do?_

Victor kept his expression neutral, even as his heart warmed at Mila’s implicit offer of help.

We _just need to find them,_ Victor brushed his forelock back behind his ear.

His fingers snagged on a tangle and Victor pulled at it as he deliberated on his next words. He had been thinking about what to do if he found the humans — when he found them. There really wasn’t much of a choice. Victor had to find them, and then…

_Then I need to fix things._

Mila’s attention zeroed in on him. _You mean…?_

Victor’s nod wass curt, unapologetic. _It is necessary…_ The tangle gave and Victor’s fingers came free. _Will you help me find them?_

Victor regarded Mila, watching as the initial panic turned to thought, searching for a way out of this predicament and reaching the inevitable conclusion.

Mila stared back, processing the information before her gaze dropped, focused instead on something over his shoulder. Her brow creased.

“Isn’t that Yuri?”

Victor looked over his shoulder and did a double take, turning around to fully witness the unbelievable scene before him.

In the center of the circle of onlookers, two figures faced off in a dance battle.

The first figure was small, angry, and immediately recognizable as Yuri. Yuri seethed and raged, every twist and jump channeling his will to win, to annihilate his opponent, to stomp out victory.

To see Yuri so worked up was not uncommon — Mila achieved it at least once a day. Yuri was young, brash, quick to anger, and eager to challenge. But he wasn’t all talk and his arrogance wasn’t unfounded. Yuri was one of the most talented dragons Victor had known. His lithe body and willingness to push himself to the limits meant that he could fly circles around dragons twice his age. It also made him an excellent dancer, whatever form he was in. But despite Yuri’s best efforts, he was _losing_. Victor’s gaze shifted to Yuri’s competitor, peering closer at the man who was putting Yuri to shame, whose body bent like the perfect accent to every note, who moved like he was made of music.

Mahogany eyes flashed over the crowd in his direction and Victor felt his heart stop. The man’s hair was disheveled, loose locks flying as he spun and gyrated to the beat of the music. His face was flushed, clothes in various states of undress, and he was missing his eyeglasses, but there was no mistake.

For a moment, Victor was back in the air, soaring through the wind, diving to catch a falling shard, and looking straight at those wide familiar eyes. The moment passed, and the owner of those eyes pirouetted away to deafening cheers from the crowd.

“Well, I think we found one of them,” Mila said next to him, sounding as dazed as he felt. “Victor, what do we do?”

Victor could only hum absently in reply. His eyes stayed riveted on the man, whose every move flowed with crisp conviction, every gesture conducting energy. He had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Victor couldn’t look away.

“Victor, I’m going to find Georgi!” Mila half-shouted in his ear. The musicians were getting into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy. The music was building to its climatic ending and Victor could barely hear himself think over the swell of emotions and elation from around them.

Victor nodded, barely aware of Mila’s receding presence. Her vacated space was swiftly swallowed up by the press of eager onlookers and Victor inched his way forward to get a better view. Victor didn’t want to look away.

Victor did not remember when he started cheering. All he knew was that when the battle came to an end, his was one of many voices as the crowd erupted into cheers of approval and appreciation, celebrating their champion.

Emerald eyes found him then, harsh with bitterness and betrayal, and Victor froze, hands interrupted mid clap, his voice shrivelling with guilt in his throat. Yuri shot him one last glare before pointedly turning his back on Victor and stomping away, shouldering his way into the crowd on the far side of the circle from Victor.

Victor hurried forward, Yuri’s name on his lips, arm reaching for him, except someone had moved in front of him and was blocking his way. Victor looked down at messy black hair, a face flushed pink from exertion, and all too familiar mahogany brown eyes.

“ _Victorrrr!_ I won the dance battle and now I get to challenge you!” Pure unadulterated elation hit Victor as the man threw his arms around him, rubbing his face into his chest and grinding his hips against Victor’s.

“H-how do you know my name?” Victor stammered. The man’s emotions rose like a wave around Victor, buffeting him with giddy joy. Victor held onto the man’s shoulders, anchoring himself lest he be swept away.

“Yuri told me!” the man answered, beaming up at him. His eyes shone with pride and Victor felt his breath catch. He would drown in those eyes if he was not careful.

“Yuri?” With an effort, Victor lifted his gaze, trying to catch sight of a blond head over the crowd.

“Yes?”

Victor’s gaze dropped. The man was staring up at him, mahogany eyes reflecting the light around them and shining, glowing with unabashed adoration. The man was drunk off his victory, revelling in it, unguarded and happy — happier than Victor could remember anyone ever being, happier than Victor could remember ever feeling.

“Is your name Yuri?”

“Yes!” The man’s face lit up and Victor felt his delight spike at the recognition. It was childlike, earnest, endearing. “My name is _Yuuuuu-ri,_ ” the man said, his words slurring. Yuuri exhaled and mingled with the smell of alcohol, Victor caught a whiff of a familiar but unexpected scent.

 _Quwwa?_ He hadn’t thought that humans would consume it too. Made from a plant that originated from a far off land, many dragons were quite fond of it and they had cultivated a patch of it in Nebogori. When brewed, its flowers made for a stimulating drink which Victor had just had this morning. Yakov drank at least three draughts a day, and woe betide those who came across him before he had had at least one. But surely humans did not need it? Drinking magic was a delicate thing for those born without it.

Victor sniffed the air between them again. The redolent scent of _Quwwa_ was thin, distilled down, and mixed with other herbs and spices humans considered palatable, but it was present nonetheless. Paying more attention to Yuuri, the way his thoughts and emotions radiated with brightness, the way he seemed to glow, alcohol wasn’t the only thing he was intoxicated with.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, feeling the vowels roll off his tongue. “Do you want to sit down? Maybe drink some water?” Victor wasn’t an expert on humans, but water seemed a good solution for Yuuri, especially after all that dancing.

“Water? I like water. Steaming hot water. My family runs a hot springs resort.” Yuuri’s face lit up. “Please come! If I win this dance battle, you’ll come and visit me, right?”

Did Yuuri just invite him to his home? Hope. Home. Happiness. Victor could barely keep up with the emotions pouring out from Yuuri. Yuuri was like a new spring, he was forthright, bold, like a refreshing drink of ice cold water, his invitation clear as crystal, open and gushing forth.

“But, you don’t know me.” Victor’s head was spinning. Yuuri was effervescent, ebullient, exhilarating.

“But I’d like to! You’re so pretty,” Yuuri said, before he blushed furiously, cheeks turning a fascinating shade of crimson. “I mean, that’s not the only — you’re a good person,” Yuuri said with an emphatic nod. “Yuri wouldn’t have danced so hard to defend you if you weren’t.”

It took a moment for Yuuri’s words to sink in, distracted as Victor was with the way Yuuri’s eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, how the man in his arms spoke all that was on his mind, no agenda left hidden. “Yuri was defending me?”

Yuuri nodded. “He said I couldn’t talk to you unless I beat him.”

“He did?” Victor asked faintly.

“Mmhmm,” Yuuri smiled, jubilant, “and I beat him.”

“You did.”

Yuuri’s face glowed with pride and satisfaction. “He is a good.”

“Yes, he is.” Victor said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“And so are you. You’re a good person too.” Before Victor could respond, Yuuri yanked on the front of his shirt, bringing Victor down so that their eyes were level. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Victor could only stare back dumbfounded. This close, Victor could feel Yuuri’s sincerity, his conviction, his belief in his words. Victor’s breath hitched. _What else do you see in me?_

Yuuri squinted, going a little cross-eyed. “In fact, your eyes seem real familiar…”

Yuuri frowned as memories flashed through his mind, blurred and fleeting. Ice. Death. Dragons. Victor pulled back. Yuuri remembered him. Did he also know their secret? Had he figured out that dragons could change their shape, shift into less magical forms; appear human, if only for a while? Was that why he had tried to approach him?

Victor scanned the crowds one last time. There was no hint of Mila, Georgi, or Yuri. Presumably, they had found each other and were together. Presumably, Victor was the only one Yuuri knew about. Presumably, Yuuri’s friend also knew and Yuuri was the best way to find him as well, so that Victor could do what he had to do. Presumably, he just had to get Yuuri to trust him.

Victor took Yuuri’s hands in his.

“Yuuri, would you like to dance?”

“You’ll do the dance-off with me?” Yuuri perked up, the frown disappearing from his face. “And if I win, you’ll come visit me, right?”

“Of course,” Victor said, leading Yuuri back into the dancing area as a new song began to play, “and if I win, we can go somewhere quiet tonight and talk. I’d like to get to know you better too. Do we have an agreement?”

Victor held his breath as the first stirring strums of a tango played.

Yuuri deliberated, swaying unsteadily on his feet, before a smile broke out on his face, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, and he said, “Agreed.” Victor let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright then,” Victor said, squaring up with Yuuri. He smiled and bowed. “Shall we dance?”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri — drunk, lively, amazing Yuuri — danced like a man possessed: commitment, heart, and desire rolled into every step; every stretch of his limbs reaching for more, reaching for Victor.

_Dance with me._

Yuuri called to him — mind, body, and soul — and Victor could not help but answer, couldn’t help but be swept away. Victor couldn’t remember the last time when he had felt so invigorated. Yuuri had no walls, no duality to his nature, nothing to hide. In his inebriated state, Yuuri was like an open book that Victor couldn’t stop reading. Yuuri shone; bright with the simple joy of dance. In his smile was beauty, in his laugh joy, and in his heart a song. Dancing with Yuuri felt like no one was looking; dancing with Yuuri felt like there was no tomorrow to worry about; dancing with Yuuri felt like freedom.

All too soon, Victor was falling out of the dance square, Yuuri’s hand warm in his and laughter ringing between them.

“That was fun!” Victor exclaimed. They had found their way to the edge of the square, and Victor led Yuuri away from the congestion of dancers, around the high tables, and towards a merchant selling drinks. “Two, please.”

Victor exchanged the necessary coins and turned to offer one of the cups of spiced wine to Yuuri. “What is it?” Victor asked. Yuuri, who had been staring at him, blushed.

“N-nothing,” Yuuri took the cup from Victor, their fingers brushing. “Thanks.”

Victor’s fingers tingled as he drank from his own cup, captivated by how the pink in the tips of Yuuri’s ears deepened.

When Yuuri lowered his cup, a smile, shy and sweet, graced his lips. “So, did I win?”

Victor felt his stomach drop. He had almost forgotten that they were competing, that they had made a deal, and that he had a job to do tonight. Victor guided Yuuri towards the edge of the city square, away from the crowds, where conversation was easier, and fewer eyes and ears lingered.

“Let’s call it a draw?” Victor said with a smile.

“A draw? Does that mean I don’t get my prize?” Yuuri’s brow furrowed. _Cute_. “What about a rematch?”

“A rematch? Just how much stamina do you have?”

“Ah, that…Phichit always did say that I had more than my fair share,” Yuuri mumbled. A face formed in Yuuri’s hazy mind — tanned skin, grey eyes, dark hair, a mouth open in a laugh. _Phichit._ Before Victor could ask more about him, Yuuri’s gaze turned inward, Phichit dissolved back into formless thought, and Yuuri bit his lip. “Celestino said that magic was taxing on the body. And that as mage apprentices, we were just only building up the strength for it.”

“Celestino?” Victor worked to keep his voice even, his tone casual. The _Quwwa_ was wearing off, the bright energy buzzing in Yuuri dissipating. As the magic seeped away, Victor could see Yuuri’s mind; his thoughts and emotions settling so that when Victor peered at Yuuri, it was like looking into a pool of morning dew so sweet and clear that its depths lay visible, tantalizingly out of reach. How Victor longed to reach out and touch its surface.

“He’s our teacher. A Master Mage of Ice Magic.” The picture of a middle-aged man took form in Yuuri’s mind. Long brown-taupe hair pulled back in a ponytail save for a short strand of hair which stuck out from his forehead. Thick eyebrows framed light green eyes set deep in his angular face. His eyes were kind, crows feet and laugh lines visible on his weathered skin. Victor committed his face to memory. “Phichit and I...we’ve been following him in his travels. Learning. Training.” Victor felt something begin to stir in Yuuri’s mind, muddying his thoughts, less a wall and more like a cloud, curling itself over everything and just out of view. “I’m supposed to be tested soon.” The cloud loomed like a shadow, blotting out the light.

Alarmed, Victor blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Anything to keep Yuuri talking, to keep the cloud from taking over. “What is the test for?”

Yuuri blinked and the cloud receded. Victor sighed in relief. “Oh, it’s so I can become a mage!”

“Aren’t you one already?”

“Well, no… I’m an apprentice.”

“What’s the difference?” Victor tilted his head in confusion.

“W-well, only mages...non-apprentices… Journeymen and Masters that is, are qualified to practice magic.” Yuuri’s thoughts churned, but the cloud stayed away. “The Order tests you, and if they deem you worthy, you’ll be able to perform magic. Make a living selling potions or solving problems with magic.” Yuuri scrunched up his nose, eyes crinkling adorably _._ “Have you never met a mage?”

“I have not,” Victor said. Victor had heard of mages, people who wielded magic as a tool. They sometimes made appearances in the tales that dragons told, although Yakov had never mentioned them. He had not heard of the Order, though Yuuri spoke of them with respect and reverence. It seemed strange to Victor that Yuuri would need someone’s approval to perform magic. But maybe that was the way of humans, to whom magic did not come naturally and must be learnt.

Yuuri didn’t seem surprised at Victor’s admission, merely nodding and humming in acceptance. Was being a mage a rare profession then? His curiosity piqued, Victor decided to take a gamble. “Could you show me your magic?”

“My magic?” Yuuri regarded him with surprise. “But I’m not— I really can’t do much.” Images of spells, creations of ice — cups, creatures, and columns of ice — flickered through Yuuri’s mind. “I’m really not that good.”

They had walked away from the party. The buildings around them were dark, windows shuttered and empty. In the quiet, it was easy to hear Yuuri, to feel his emotions as they walked side by side — worry, embarrassment, self-doubt. Yuuri was afraid of failing. But — hope, want, a chance to impress — he also wanted to show off. Victor leaned in, intrigued by the duality wrestling in Yuuri. The tension built, and then broke.

“Umm… Let’s see, where’s my staff?” Victor could have cheered. Yuuri began looking around him, hands patting about his person. His face fell.

“I don’t have my staff.” Yuuri looked up at him, crestfallen. “I can’t do magic without my staff.” Yuuri’s eyes glistened. Victor felt sorrow, such genuine, heartfelt sorrow from Yuuri.

“It’s alright,” Victor said gently. “Maybe another time?”

Victor lifted his cup to his lips and Yuuri followed, swallowing back tears. Yuuri’s swell of grief subsided, drowned in the wine. _He must still be inebriated_ , Victor thought. Yuuri lowered his empty cup, swaying on his feet as he looked around for a place to put it.

They were in a deserted part of the city now. The buildings looked abandoned, empty shells that were home to the lonely wind and dust. Something about them seemed vaguely familiar, but Victor didn’t have time to think on it right now.

He reached out and took the cup from Yuuri with a smile. “It’s getting late. Do you want to head back? Or find your friend Phichit?”

“Phichit?” Yuuri squinted around him, trying to see into the shadows. “I don’t know where he is. We got separated at the square. After Celestino told us not to tell anyone about—” Yuuri clamped a hand over his mouth, his wide eyes finding Victor’s.

Victor smiled. “About what, Yuuri?”

Yuuri pursed his lips and shook his head. “You’re very pretty. But Celestino said not to tell…” The scene rose in Yuuri’s mind: Celestino was insistent, firm. He would inform the Order, but until then, Yuuri and Phichit were forbidden from telling anyone what they had seen.

 _It’s for best. To keep everyone safe_ , Celestino had said over Phichit and Yuuri’s confused questions.

Yuuri shook his head again and the memory faded. Victor suppressed a sigh of frustration.

“So you wouldn’t tell. Not even me?” Victor beamed at Yuuri, putting as much charm and persuasion as he could muster.

The blush on Yuuri’s face deepened, but he held fast. “I promised Celestino,” Yuuri whispered. Resolve, steel and steadfast, burned in Yuuri. “My lips are sealed.”

Victor wavered in indecision. This was an unexpected turn of events. Whoever this Celestino was, he wanted the existence of dragons to remain a secret. Only Yuuri and Phichit knew, and they were forbidden from speaking about it. But why? What was the benefit of keeping this quiet? Celestino had said that he would inform the Order. If he did, what would they do? Would they continue to keep quiet or… The poster with a bounty for dragons fluttered in his mind.

What should he do? If he didn’t act tonight, when would he have another chance? If he wanted to fix things, he needed to find Phichit, and now this Celestino as well. Things were quickly spiralling out of control. Victor needed to do something. What should he do with Yuuri?

Victor’s eyes fell on Yuuri — sweet, unguarded, surprising Yuuri. Yuuri was inspecting their surroundings with mild interest, the starlight and moonlight on his skin making him glow. With a jolt, Victor realized that Yuuri’s hand was still in his, their fingers intertwined. He could feel Yuuri’s pulse beating faintly against his, in synch as if their hearts beat as one, as if they were meant to be.

Their eyes met for a moment. Yuuri smiled. Victor wanted to chase that smile. He wanted to follow it, capture it, freeze it, and keep it forever. Of all the smiles he had received, from friends and mentors and potential lovers, no one smiled at him like Yuuri — like it didn’t matter that they were standing in the slums of a city, that Victor hadn’t done anything to earn it, that Victor didn’t have to give anything in return. Yuuri was happy just to be, to share a moment with him, to enjoy.

How he wished things were different, that he had met Yuuri under different circumstances, at another time, in another life, in another world. But as it was, Victor had to make a decision.

Victor hesitated. His plan for the night had finally come to fruition. He could handle Yuuri now and he had enough of a sense of Phichit and Celestino that he could find them and handle them too. But should he?

From what Victor had seen, the mages didn’t seem to mean the dragons ill. Celestino confused him, but Phichit felt honest, genuine. Yuuri considered him a friend, and Victor knew that Yuuri meant no harm. His was a soul that strived for the betterment of others and that would sacrifice himself for it. Celestino had made them promise not to tell, and Yuuri would adhere to it. Could he trust Phichit and Celestino to do the same? Should he take the chance?

Victor’s heart twinged with worry. He had already made so many mistakes today. He wanted to believe, wanted to trust the mages. But what if he was wrong? Were the stakes too high? Could the dragons survive if humans came after them? If the Order sent out mages to hunt them not only with steel and snares, but spells as well? What should Victor do?

_The path before you is hidden._

_Many difficult decisions and hard choices await you._

Victor’s jaw clenched. “Yuuri, I—”

“Hey.” Yuuri was looking past him, his brow creased as he stared into the distance. “Hey! Where are you taking him?!”

Startled, Victor turned to look behind him. Rational thought fled as Victor felt the ground open up under him and swallow him whole.

Between buildings and in the shadows of a dark alleyway, three men were hurrying towards the outskirts of the city. In their grasp, kicking and fighting for all he was worth, was Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup… Yuuri was drunk on dragon coffee xD
> 
> * * *
> 
> If you feel up to it, could you do me a favour? If you enjoyed reading this chapter, could you leave a “<3” in the comments for me please? Knowing that my writing brought even a little bit of joy to someone makes all the effort worth it for me.
> 
> If you’d like to reblog or retweet this story, see:  
> Tumblr post for this chapter is [here](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com/post/179199973824/watch-me-catch-the-sky-chapter-3).  
> Twitter post for this chapter is [here](https://twitter.com/im_dragonling/status/1053128716166090755).
> 
> Chapter 4: By the Graveyard will go up on October 25, 2018 at 00:00 EST/21:00 PST.
> 
> Hang on until then.


	4. By the Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Yuuri remember? Is Yuri safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry for the wait and for being a bit behind schedule. With this posted, we are past the halfway mark!!! Only three more chapters to go!

Yuuri knocked into him and Victor tripped Yuuri as they both charged towards the figures disappearing into the night.

“ _Yuri!_ ” Victor screamed into the distance. Silence answered him.

The men were moving quickly, already out of sight and past the last building. But Yuri should have heard him. The lack of a reply made his blood run cold.

Victor scrambled up and bolted down the alleyway. Why had he let Yuri out of his sight? How could he have let this happen? Who were those men? What were they doing with Yuri? Why Yuri?

Victor skidded around the last corner and out into the open. He sprinted down the gentle slope, following the drag marks through the snow. Hurrying past a gully and down a shallow cliff, Victor barely noticed where he was going, how Emlya’s magic faded with every step. So focused on chasing after Yuri, Victor didn’t notice where he was until he saw it.

A shrine of stone as tall as his chest rose lonely and grey in the moonlight. Behind it, slabs of stone stood in innocuous rows, marking where the earth lay empty, lifeless, barren beneath the snow. Victor’s heart stopped as recognition hit him. He had been here before.

Disgruntled voices reached him through his shock.

“Damnit, did’ya forget to drug him?”

“I did! Yer saw me pour it inta his drink! He should still be knocked out.”

“Well you must have messed up. Stop struggling, brat! Spoiled goods don’t pay as well, and it would be a pity to mark that pretty face.”

Beyond the graves, a pair of draft horses were tethered to stakes in the ground. They were hitched to a train of carriages and the men were huddled by the last cart. They were trying to force Yuri into a cage as he kicked and fought, beating at them with his hands bound together at the wrists. Yuri screamed muffled obscenities and swore curses at them through the gag in his mouth.

“YURI!!!” Victor shouted.

The men froze, heads turning towards him. Yuri’s pale face peeked at him through the gap between two bodies, emerald green eyes shining with fear and desperation.

 _Victor!_ Yuri’s voice reached him, weak and frail and barely there. Victor felt sick.

“Oi! Get out of ‘ere. This ain’t yer business.” One of the men stepped in front of Yuri, blocking him from view. His hand moved to grip the hilt of a knife by his belt. “We don’t want things to get ugly do we? Scat! Both of ya.”

Belatedly, Victor heard the thump of footsteps and Yuuri’s ragged breath behind him.

“Stop! Let him go!” Yuuri lunged towards the men holding Yuri.

Victor shot out an arm, holding Yuuri back even as the man closest to them pulled out his knife.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “So ya know the boy? Shouldn’ta let him out of yer sight. Can’t have ya running off and tellin’ on us now.” The man gave a nasty grin, baring dirty yellowed teeth. “Yer gonna come with us now, or the kid gets it.”

He reached behind him and grabbed Yuri, putting him in a chokehold and pressing the point of his knife to his chin. Yuri clawed against the arm restraining him. Victor could feel Yuri flailing, lashing out, fighting tooth and nail.

The man shook Yuri. “Stop squirming kid. Or I’ll prick ya.”

_Yuri, stop! You will only get hurt._

_But Victor!_

_Focus, Yuri! Whatever drug they gave you, fight it! Concentrate!_

Yuri’s eyes gleamed with fury, but he stopped struggling. The man grinned. “Good boy.” He kissed the top of Yuri’s head. Cold fury curled in Victor. “Now you two. C’mere and be tied up. And don’t waste yer breath. No one ever comes ‘ere. Ain’t no one gonna hear ya scream.”

“You don’t know that!” Yuuri raised his voice. “You’re just saying that to scare us!”

The man laughed. “Yer think so? Ya see those stones, boy?” The man nodded towards the graves. Victor’s chest constricted. His eyes snapped to Yuri who stood stock still, eyes dragged to the shrine of stone and the tombstones around it, staring. “The locals say there was a great fight here years ago. They say dragons attacked. Came and slaughtered a whole army.”

Victor could see the wheels turning in Yuri’s head, the fragments falling into place. He wanted to cry out, to tell Yuri to stop listening, to tell the man to _shut up_. But he kept talking.

“Lots of people died. Lots of blood was spilt.” Victor could feel the bloodshed, could feel the agony and sorrow that still stained the ground on which they stood. He knew Yuri could feel it too.

“They say that’s why there ain’t any dragons here no more. They say this place is cursed.” The man leered at them. “I wish I had been there. I’d have liked to have carved up some of those beasts and sold them for a pretty penny. Too bad we’re fifteen cycles too late.”

Victor saw the last piece of the puzzle click into place, and Yuri screamed.

Yuri screamed and screamed and screamed; with all his rage and fury and fear; all the power he had in this worthless human body, in this powerless form, in this shape that was the source of all his grief and all his pain and all his emptiness.

The point of the man’s knife dropped, his grip loosening in shock. It was enough. Yuri tore himself free, kicking his captor in the gut as he wrenched his gag free and screamed.

Wrath and vengeance washed over them. The humans clapped their hands to their ears, unable to comprehend the pain that assaulted their minds. Victor let it wash over him, faced it like a rock against the waves and accepted it.

The wind shifted and Victor felts the fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end as the smell of ozone and petrichor filled the air. The familiar currents of magic began to flow — circling and gathering, concentrating around Yuri.

“Yuuri, get down!” Victor dove and wrapped his arms around Yuuri, bringing them both crashing to the ground.

The wind whipped at Victor’s clothes and hair, lashing at him. Ice and wind tore at his prone form and Victor heard the horses scream in fear as wood splintered and chains rattled, unable to withstand the elemental forces tearing at them. The men howled in pain as the storm unleashed its fury on them, exacting revenge at being contained. Victor closed his eyes and heard Yuuri cry out. Victor’s arms tightened around him.

Yuri let out a roar — full throated, loud, and _dragon_. Goosebumps raced across Victor’s skin. Cracking his eyes open, Victor saw Yuri — the tattered remains of his human clothes hanging off his expanded chest, ribbons of cloth stretched across his golden wings, shredded threads caught in between his claws. Ropes snapped as Yuri bit at them and freed himself from his bonds. When the storm abated, Yuri stood there furious, fearful, confused.

_Oh, Yuri._

For a moment, the world was still, flakes of ice fell like gentle snow, and the air glittered.

A scream rent through the ephemeral tranquility of the night.

The three men were scrabbling on the ground, trying to get away from the dragon before them. Terror was writ on their faces, but Victor had no pity to spare for them. They scrambled upright and began to run.

_Oh no you don’t._

In one smooth stroke, Victor sent ice towards them. They fell, caught with surprise by the sudden immobility around their ankles. Their hands scratched uselessly at the ice encasing their feet. Two of them pulled out their knives, only to find their hands similarly bound. The ice seemed to grow, racing up their knees and hips and down their elbows until they lay, imprisoned in ice. Bewildered eyes turned towards Victor, the whites showing with fear.

Victor smiled.

Before he could move, Yuri roared. He leapt towards the men, barbed tail smashing into the cage behind him and ripping it off the cart.

“Yuri, no!”

Victor threw out his arm and a wall of ice appeared in between Yuri and his prey. Yuri’s head snapped towards Victor, teeth barred in rage.

 _Yuri, stop._ Victor spoke, calm and stern and steady. Yuri swiveled around to meet Victor, teeth bared and body coiled to strike, the green in his eyes lost to the confusion, anger, and pain within.

Yuri screamed a terrible sound, half howl and half cry. The men cowered on the ground. Victor heard Yuuri whimper behind him. In the distance, whatever faint cheer Victor could still sense from Saoul faltered and died. Panic and confusion grew in its place. Victor glanced towards the city.

 _Yuri, we have to leave. We can’t stay here._ Victor made to stand. A tug on the back of his shirt stopped him. Looking back, anxious mahogany eyes looked up at him.

“Victor…” _Don’t go. It’s not safe._ Those eyes pleaded with him.

Victor smiled, his heart warm. “It’s alright, Yuuri,” Victor covered Yuuri’s hand with his, squeezing it gently before standing and letting go. Pulling off his shirt, Victor draped it around Yuuri’s shoulders. “Cover your eyes.”

Victor raised his arms and called forth a snow storm. The wind keened and Victor let it sing through his bones. He closed his eyes as flurries of snow cycloned around them, reducing visibility to near zero. Saoul disappeared behind a wall of white.

Victor let go. His limbs extended, his backbone stretched. It was like waking up, the magic rushing through him, filling him, completing him. When his transformation was complete, there were two dragons instead of one.

Victor heard a sharp intake of breath, sensed Yuuri’s surprise, and the heightened horror from the three men bound in ice.

In his true form, Victor sent the storm raging around them towards the city. They needed to move and they couldn’t risk anyone seeing them. Victor reached out, seeking the familiar touch of Mila and Georgi past the storm and through the clamour of confusion and alarm from the humans at the sudden onslaught of Victor’s storm.

 _Victor!_ They answered in relief.

In the background, Victor could sense weak currents of magic — short bursts of power and sparked attempts to combat his storm, control it, disperse it. Victor wondered if Celestino and maybe even Phichit were trying to calm things. Victor exhaled heavily. They would have to wait. He had more immediate problems.

 _Mila, Georgi._ _The two of you should leave. Get out of Saoul and wait for us by the grove._

 _But what about Yuri?_ _I can’t find him._ Mila said, tone laden with worry.

_I am with him. We will join you both in awhile. Keep up the storm for us._

Relinquishing control to them, Victor turned his full attention to Yuri. _Yuri, we need to go_ , Victor said, as firmly as he could.

 _No._ Yuri snarled, head swinging back towards the men. He growled and Victor’s wall of ice melted away. Yuri swayed where he stood, churning through the murderous intent to kill, to exact revenge, to tear the men apart in retribution.

 _Yuri, control yourself_ , Victor said. _You’re scaring the horses._

Yuri hesitated, blinking furiously.

Victor approached him.

 _Come, Yuri. Don’t do this. Not here. Not now. Not like this._ Victor halted by the shrine. He raised a wing, caressing the snow off it. This close, he noticed for the first time a wreath of poppies and white carnations laid at its base. Yuri watched him out of the corner of his eye. _We will deal with them, but not here. Enough blood has been spilled on this land. Ours. Theirs. Yours._

Yuri snarled and spat, pacing the ground in agitation before he turned to Victor. _Bring them._ With a flick of his tail, he cut the ropes holding the horses. Free at last and half mad with fear, they fled into the night. Yuri destroyed the rest of the train and then took off, disappearing into the storm.

Victor sighed and spread his wings, lifting himself into the air. Scooping Yuuri up in one foot and the three men in the other, Victor flew, low and near ground where the storm was thickest.

Victor and Yuri headed into the wilderness. When they were far enough from Saoul that Victor felt safe, he picked out a spot to land, letting the storm around them wither and die. Dropping the three men in a heap and setting Yuuri down with care, Victor landed, Yuri following close behind.

 _I’m sorry,_ Victor eyed Yuuri apologetically. Yuuri’s eyes widened at the voice in his head, recognition and surprise reverberating through him. _I need you to stay here._ Hoping Yuuri would forgive him, Victor blew a circle around him, creating a cocoon of ice which prevented Yuuri from leaving. Victor saw Yuuri touch the ice in wondermont, and Victor let the astonishment and amazement from Yuuri assuage some of his guilt as he turned away to deal with the other humans.

The men were attempting to crawl away, inching their way through the snow like worms on their bellies.

Yuri watched dispassionately, his rage simmering just under the surface. His thirst for revenge, for vengeance had not lessened, was merely restrained.

Victor exhaled.

_Yuri._

_Victor._

Yuri’s eyes remain trained on the men grovelling before him.

Victor focused his attention on Yuri, projecting calm and control he does not feel. _Yuri, listen to me. We cannot kill them._

 _Why not_ , Yuri snapped. _Death is better than they deserve. I want this one’s head on a stick._

Yuri lowered his head over the man who had threatened him, teeth scraping over the ice encasing him. The man screamed a high pitched cry, eyes rolling up in terror. The two others cried and frothed at the mouth, their psyches pushed to breaking point by Yuri who sent them images of their fate as promises. Merciless.

 _Yuri!_ Victor mentally shoved at Yuri, breaking his assault. Yuri growled in annoyance. The men sobbed and gibbered, incoherent.

 _Be quiet!_ Victor held nothing back from the ferocity of the glare he shot the men. The humans stilled, eyes wide and mouths open in silent screams. Victor focused his attention back on Yuri. _Yuri, we do not torture. We do not torment. What would your grandparents say if they saw you do this?_

_Yakov is too busy worrying about everyone and Lilia stays locked in her tower._

_And Nikolai?_

Yuri would not meet Victor’s eyes. _He would want me to take revenge,_ Yuri muttered.

Victor sighed. _Yuri, you know that’s not true. They wouldn’t want you to do this. They wouldn’t want you to become a_ murderer. Yuri looked away. _They wouldn’t, Yuri. It wouldn’t make them happy. It wouldn’t make your parents happy._

Yuri turned on him, eyes flashing. _How would you know! You don’t know! No one knows! No one knows because— because— they’re dead!_

Victor braced his mind against the barrage of distorted images and emotions from Yuri — loss, grief, helplessness, hate.

Victor will never forget that day. The initial alarm, the confusion and uproar, the fragile calm that lay over Nebogori as they waited for the ones who had left in pursuit to return. When they did, it was with two lifeless bodies, and the hollow eyes of those who had seen death and slaughter.

Yuri’s tail thrashed perilously close to the humans’ heads as he paced back and forth, claws gouging the ground beneath him. The thugs’ eyes rolled in alarm, the whites of their eyes showing.

Yuri roared. The wind picked up around them, vicious and cruel enough to leave faint trails of blood on the humans’ faces. Victor was thankful that Yuuri was safe.

 _Maybe if they had defended themselves! If they had fought harder._ The wind screamed. _If they had never left._ The wind cried. _If they had come home._

The wind died down, and Yuri stood still, trembling. His tears fell into the snow, the most precious crystals around. Victor moved closer, stopping short of touching him.

 _I’m sorry, Yuri,_ Victor whispered.

Yuri’s head dipped lower. He leaned forward and rested his forehead to Victor’s chest.

 _Why did they leave me?_ Yuri asked. _Didn’t they want me? Was I not important enough?_

Victor wrapped a wing around Yuri. _They loved you, Yuri. Your parents couldn’t stop talking about you. They couldn’t wait for you to hatch. They wanted to show you the world, Yuri. And sometimes...sometimes things happen._

Victor raised his head towards the sky. The stars twinkled back at him, one last encore before the sun rose again.

_They’re up there, Yuri. They’re watching over you and waiting for you to come home._

Yuri sniffed and raised his head.

 _Go back to the clearing. Mila and Georgi will take you home._ Yuri turned to the humans. Victor nudged him from behind. _Go back to the clearing. I’ll handle things here. Everything will be alright. I promise._

Yuri stared at Victor, something empty and blank behind the storm in his eyes. Victor’s heart ached for the boy. After a moment, Yuri gave him a curt nod, and without another word, he took flight, soaring high into the heavens.

When Victor sensed Georgi’s relief and Mila’s joy at Yuri’s arrival, he exhaled, finally able to turn his attention to the three humans before him and the unpleasant task at hand. Victor looked down at one of them, the one that had pulled the knife on Yuri.

 _Well now_ , Victor said to the man. Victor angled his head down to look at the man’s eyes, _What did you say about dragons again?_ The man’s eyes rolled in panic. _Look into my eyes._

Victor pushed into the man’s mind, sliding like a knife through his feeble protests, brushing aside his crumbling defenses like half formed smoke.

_Show me what you remember._

Piece by piece, Victor extracted them — Yuri in the crowd, his pale blond hair shining like a halo, an angel among mortals; approaching Yuri, an easy task with how isolated, how alone, how young he was; offering Yuri a drink, the drug that would render him unconscious mixed in; watching as Yuri drank; leading him away as his head drooped and his body slumped against his side; carrying Yuri away with the help of his partners; Yuri stirring; Yuri fighting; someone shouting for them to stop…

When Victor was done, the man’s head lolled, limp. Raising his head, his eyes gleamed as his next target wet himself.

_Your turn._

 

* * *

 

Victor stretched his neck, trying to work out the kink in it. The men lay motionless by his feet, quiet for the first time that night. They were abhorrent — men with hearts given to self profit and greed, who took pleasure in the suffering of others, who gloated over the wretched lives they sold and who they thought of only as cattle.

Victor stepped away from them. Yuri was safe now, as were the dragons and their secret.

There was only one more thing left to do.

Victor turned to the column of ice that stood silent in the snow. Blowing on the translucent walls, the ice melted away, revealing Yuuri who sat huddled in its middle, hugging his knees to his chest, Victor’s shirt wrapped around his shoulders. Yuuri scrambled to stand.

Yuuri’s eyes were wide, round in awe as he looked at Victor. His eyes flicked to the still bodies behind Victor. Yuuri shivered.

“Are you going to eat me now?” Yuuri blurted. His face went beet red, mortified at his own words.

Victor stared at Yuuri. A soft snort escaped him, and then a chuckle, and then Victor was laughing, the tension draining out of him. _I’m not going to eat you._ Yuuri gave a surprised _oh_ at Victor speaking to him and Victor settled on the ground, folding his wings as he waited for Yuuri to adjust to being spoken to like this. _Are you well?_

As he recovered from shock, Yuuri’s mind bubbled with excitement, wonder, and incredulity. It really was a _dragon_ in front of him! _But oh, it’s a dragon, and he spoke to me. I haven’t answered yet._ A wave of embarrassment, anxiety, and self-directed ridicule roiled in him. His mind clouded over.

Victor peered closer. _Yuuri, are you alright?_

Recognition flashed in Yuuri. “You’re the dragon,” Yuuri gasped, fingers curling into the fabric of Victor’s shirt. Victor nodded, amused and concerned at Yuuri’s unpredictability. “No, I mean, you’re the dragon that saved me, from the falling shards.” Ice. Death. Clear skies. A blue eye set in a silver face.

 _Ah,_ Victor coughed, _Yes. Yes I am._

Yuuri’s mind was a whirl of emotions, the cloud churning through his mind, alternating waves of bright clarity and suffocating doubt. “You understand me?” _Of course he does, Yuuri you idiot, he was a man. He was a man!_ “But you were a man?”

Disbelief. Realisation. Wonder. Awe. Victor’s lips twitched. _Yes, do you doubt your eyes?_

“Yes, I mean, no! I mean…” Yuuri pulled at his hair, his bun completely unraveled. “Is this really happening? I’m not dreaming, am I?” Yuuri’s laugh was slightly hysterical.

 _You are not dreaming,_ Victor angled his head forward so that their eyes were level with each other. Yuuri’s eyes widened in surprise and his fingers twisted in his hair. Curiosity. Longing. Touch.

Yuuri clasped his hands together. His eyes latched onto Victor’s before he swallowed, lips pressed together. _Can you hear me think?_

Shock. Amazement. Excitement. _It is the dragons’ way,_ Victor said watching Yuuri cycle through his emotions.

“Wow,” Yuuri breathed, mind racing to absorb this information, believing it, understanding it. He paused. “The other dragon, the golden one. That was Yuri?”

 _Yes. What happened to him tonight…_ Victor cleared his throat. _I should have never let him out of my sight._

“Oh,” Yuuri said. They sank into silence as they both wallowed in self blame at what had been, and at what had almost happened.

Yuuri’s eyes trailed back to the bodies of the men lying in the snow. “Are— Are they dead?”

Victor huffed. _They are alive. Their heads will hurt when they awake, but the pain will subside. Eventually._ Victor had been thorough and not particularly gentle. He hoped the pain lasted.

 _How unfortunate,_ Yuuri grimaced. He looked back at Victor with innocent eyes.

Victor’s lips quirked in a smile.

“What did you do to them?”

Victor weighed his answer, wondering how to explain it to Yuuri. _I took their memories. They will not remember tonight. Everything from just before they first laid eyes on Yuri, I have taken._

“So they won’t remember us? Or Yuri, or you and Yuri changing… You shifted forms. I’ve never heard of dragons being able to do anything like that.” Yuuri paused, his mind racing — a city, a room full of books, reading by candlelight. “It’s a secret, isn’t it?”

Astute. _Yes, one we closely guard._

“This is how you’ve kept it secret then, by taking memories. You don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”

 _It is for the best,_ Victor murmured. He shifted closer, watching the wheels in Yuuri’s mind turn. Yuuri’s was digesting the information, ideas and imagination sparking, wondering — what else were dragons capable of?

Victor rumbled in his throat, capturing Yuuri’s attention. _I am sorry, but you cannot share this with anyone._ Victor pushed through Yuuri’s disappointment. _There are so few dragons left. Humans hunt us now like beasts. That we can change into human form would be a dangerous thing for humans to know. Even our presence here tonight is something that should not be._

After a moment where Yuuri’s thoughts churned again, he said, “I understand.” Yuuri stared at Victor, a thought forming on his tongue. Victor waited. “Does— What does that mean for me?”

Yuuri tried to hide the fear and apprehension. Victor bowed his head. _I am sorry, but I will need to take your memories from tonight as well._

His dismay and trepidation palpable, Yuuri asked, bravely, “I heard them screaming earlier. Will it hurt?”

Victor wanted to reach out and soothe him. _I will be careful. But I need you to trust me._

Yuuri hesitated. Victor did not push. For this to be painless, Yuuri needed to trust him, needed to submit his mind and agree with his own free will. Victor wanted this to be painless for Yuuri. Yuuri’s nod was slow but firm, and Victor sensed the resolve building in Yuuri, like little blocks of crystal falling in place and fitting together to form one, full, beautiful whole. After a few deep breaths, Yuuri lifted his chin. “I’m ready.”

Katsuki Yuuri’s mind was like a kaleidoscope of colour — each memory was like a prism, a new lense which Victor could peer through and see the patterns of Yuuri’s soul — forming beautiful, complex, often puzzling pictures of the world. There were many faces, some like Yuuri’s and many that were not; Celestino; and Phichit, a lot of Phichit. There was ice and snow, scripts and scrolls by candlelight, walls of stone, a town by the sea, and land filled with green. All this and more passed by Victor who accompanied and guided Yuuri like a gentle summer breeze wending his way towards memories of today.

When he found them, Victor hesitated before reaching into Yuuri’s mind, back in time and past Victor and Yuri’s transformations, past the quiet walk through Saoul, past dancing with Victor and Victor’s face alight with joy, past the dance off with Yuri and the first flash of silver, until Yuuri was staring into a glass of amber liquid, bubbling and fizzing with the promise of a good time. Victor gathered the memories to him.

_Yuuri, let go, give them to me._

_Must I?_

And Victor found that his heart was heavy, twisting with something that was not quite sorrow and not quite regret.

 _It is what you agreed to._ The words did not sound right.

_But I don’t want to forget you._

Something hot and white and sharp flared in Victor.

 _I won’t forget you._ The words still sounded wrong. _But I made a promise._ He shared a face with golden hair and green, angry eyes.

_Oh._

The heaviness was back, and Victor was weighed down by the need to apologize.

 _It is the only way to keep him safe._ And to keep you safe. The words went unsaid.

_I...understand._

Yuuri relented and Victor wanted to cry. Yuuri let his memories go, surrendered them into Victor’s care. There were so many, each moment a special fragment of time, a special piece of Yuuri; and Victor held them close, like the precious things that they were.

_I’ll miss you._

Yuuri’s thoughts were sleepy, mind hazy with exhaustion.

 _How can you miss what you don’t remember?_ Victor wanted to scream, wanted to keep their minds connected, didn’t want to let Yuuri go.

Victor raged at himself. It had only been a night. One night of secrets and plotting and scheming. One night of trying to do exactly this, of finding Yuuri, of silencing Yuuri, of making Yuuri forget.

He didn’t want Yuuri to forget.

The thought cut deep, deeper than Victor would have thought possible, deeper than he thought he was. It shocked him, rattled him to his very core, and for the first time in his life, Victor felt unbalanced, like the world had tilted on its axis and he was falling with no end in sight. Victor clutched at Yuuri, held tight to the only constant in his world.

 _Hmm… I don’t know._ Yuuri was slipping, fading from consciousness. _But I will. You’ll stay close to me, won’t you?_

And Victor should have done what he was supposed to do, what Yakov had taught him to do, what he had set out to do. Victor should have ended their connection right there and then, should have done what Yuuri did, should have let go.

_Of course, I will._

Victor should have lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm… Hope that answers the questions we had in the beginning /)_(\


	5. In the Onsen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> |_・)
> 
> I'm sorry this took me forever. Please enjoy.

There were stories that Lilia told — whispers bourne by the winds and murmurs heard in dreams — of Great Wryms and Ancient Serpents, dragons so old they made the mountains look young; and who slumbered, undisturbed and almost forgotten among the foundations of the world, waiting to be awoken. 

Victor never quite believed them. How could a life spent asleep be worth living? Why not give up their physical forms and return to the bosom from which they sprung? At least there they would be among the gods, or with those who had gone before them. Why linger in slumber and experience the world in glimpses and snatches of dreams?

But now, he could begin to understand. These days, dreaming was all Victor wanted to do.

It had started with hearing Yuuri laugh. It came so infrequently, clear and sharp like the ringing of a bell; too hastily muffled before Victor even had a chance to mourn. When Victor pressed, hungering for more, shadows began to appear — grey and insubstantial like wisps of smoke too quickly blown away. Yuuri’s laugh brought colour — bright, dazzling, hypnotizing. And Yuuri would be there, dancing just out of reach, beckoning him on, calling to him.

_ You only live once. _

It was easier to keep track of Yuuri when Victor was asleep, when his mind was able to wander, free from the confines of his body and the demands of duty. He sought out Yuuri then. Drawn to the refracted visions of the other’s perspective, the way Yuuri saw the world in cascades of colour, in texture and pattern. Even when Yuuri withdrew, when the clouds closed in and blocked out the light, Victor chased him.

Following Yuuri was fascinating. The mages travelled constantly, never seeming to stay in one location for more than a week. Each glimpse Victor caught of their surroundings showed a different town, a different place, a different picture. More than that, Victor saw the mages perform magic. If he timed it right, he could sometimes catch Yuuri in the middle of helping with a spell. It was fascinating, watching how the humans used magic. Spells to make ice and break ice, charms and enchantments on boxes and rooms to keep them cold, and a hundred and one other ways Victor, as a child of magic, took for granted but which humans used magic to improve their lives. On a good day, when his connection with Yuuri was strong, it was almost as if Victor was there himself, reaching for the magic around him, making the ice around him bloom.

Today was a good day. One where Yuuri saw clearly, and where the clouds in his mind were translucent, a gossamer veil which Victor could see through. Yuuri had reached a town by the sea. Victor could see the sun glinting off the waves, the way the clouds moved and changed their shape as the strong sea breeze played with them. He could hear the gulls flying overhead, crying for their supper, and the shouts of seamen, preparing to set sail. Yuuri’s glasses misted over with sea spray and as Yuuri cleaned them, Victor imagined the feel of ocean droplets against his skin and remembered smell of the sea.

_ Vitya. _

Victor’s vision blurred and he groaned in protest. Someone was trying to reach him, to wake him, to rip him from his slumber. Victor buried himself deeper. He tried to keep afloat, keep the dream alive, keep following Yuuri. Two familiar faces filled his vision.

Phichit, smiling as he always seemed to be, was saying something, his mouth working around the words. Celestino was next to him, one hand curved around his mouth as he called out to Yuuri. They were on a ship, a large naval vessel with sails and men running along its deck. The ship was moving away, setting off into the open seas; Phichit and Celestino were calling, shouting, waving at Yuuri. Yuuri waved back from the shore. The ship set sail and Yuuri’s vision misted over. It was not their connection this time.

_ Vitya. _

Victor sighed, letting the dream fall and fade away. The ship and ocean slipped away, Yuuri’s vision turned opaque, and Victor opened his eyes. The sight of Yakov, standing at the entrance of his bedchamber — disgruntled, disapproving,  _ distinctly _ not Yuuri — greeted him.

_ Vitya, have you been asleep all day? _

Victor yawned and uncurled from around Makkachin who harrumphed softly in protest. Victor stretched, feeling his vertebrae pop as he tried to work through the lassitude that followed such a deep sleep. He gave himself a moment more before lifting his head.

_ Yes? _

Victor felt Yakov’s disapproval roll over him and found that he did not care. Victor blinked the sleep sand from his eyes, rubbing his face into Makkachin’s soft mane and curling himself around his warmth again. Makkachin shifted, his wings rustling, and let out a snort, settling back in Victor’s embrace with a soft snore.

Yakov eyed him sternly.  _ Vitya, the sun is past its zenith. You missed the meeting this morning and barely anyone has seen hide or hair from you since the Spring Equinox.  _

_ I’ve been resting. _ Victor blew his fringe of hair away from his eyes. He felt his eyelids droop with heaviness, sleep pulling at him again and he wondered how mad Yakov would be if he started snoozing again.

Yakov’s agitation rolled over and around him, just as the clouds do over the mountains.

_ When was the last time you ate?  _ Yakov’s tone was sharp.

Victor made an effort to remember.  _ Hmm, maybe...two days ago? _

_ When did you have more than just water and berry juice? _

Victor struggled to recall his last proper meal. It had been at that picnic with Mila, Georgi, and Yuri, right? They’d had wild fowl and venison. That had been last week. Or was it the week before last? Time seemed so fuzzy these days. Wakefulness was dull, filled with the monotony of his duties, the scant comfort he could offer to his fellow dragons, when nothing seemed to fix their ever lengthening list of problems, where Victor felt helpless, useless against the turn of time.

Sleep was bliss then. Freedom and refuge against consciousness and all its burdens. Asleep, he could dream, see the world through Yuuri’s eyes. Who wouldn’t want that over being awake?

_ Soon, sleep will claim me. _

_ And I will not be able to hear your call. _

Victor jerked awake, heart thumping and yearning for a caress deep within the marrow of his bones.

_ Hmmph. _

Victor swung his head around to Yakov who was watching him carefully, his gaze stony and far too perceptive. Victor tried to school his expression, fling up his walls and show Yakov that he was  _ fine _ , but Yakov was already turning away, reaching for something behind him.

A basket with a cloth over it skittered across the floor towards him and Yakov began walking  away, back down the hallway and towards the antechamber, deicing the windows he passed. Sunlight and fresh air streamed in, thick with the scent of spring.

_ Georgi and Mila caught those for you. _

Victor removed the cloth and the smell of fresh fish filled his nostrils. Victor’s mouth began to water and he unwound himself from Makkachin, careful not to jostle him. Picking up the basket, Victor padded after Yakov who had made it out to the inner garden and who settled with a grunt on one of the warming stones.

Victor sat on a stone across from him and pulled off the cloth, suddenly very hungry. He was halfway through the second fish when he lifted his head guiltily.  _ Do you want any…? _

Yakov huffed and waved him on.  _ I’ve eaten. That’s for you. Make sure you eat all of it. _

Victor didn’t need to be told twice. He dipped his head and polished off the rest of the fish. They were not very large or very plump, but Victor was famished and they were delicious.

When Victor had washed off and drunk deeply from the well spring, pausing to offer Yakov a refreshment which he refused, Victor returned to his stone, slumping onto the sun warmed surface in satisfaction.

Victor’s home was at the very Northern edge of Nebogori, a little ways from the rest of the mountains where other dragons made their homes. Victor was thirteen when he picked it out and asked if he could move from the communal caves into the then abandoned spire. Yakov and Lilia had not objected in their grief, and Victor sought refuge in the quiet and isolation.

Time had only made him appreciate having his own space more. It was nice, to be able to relax and unwind after a long hard day, to not have to feel like he was constantly watched or heard, to cease being a model of behaviour to which he had to constantly live up to, to be able to breathe.

It was quiet now, the only mind within effortless hearing distance Yakov’s. Makkachin’s sleepy thoughts were a murmur in the background, but those hardly counted. Home was not complete without Makka.

Lying under the warmth of the sun with his hunger satiated and Yakov content with his silent company, Victor began to drift off again.

He was back with Yuuri. It must be night where he was, the only source of illumination the orange glow of a candlelit lantern which spilled across a stack of bound parchment. Yuuri was sketching again — delicate strokes of charcoal and ink bringing the portrait of a dragon to life.  _ His _ portrait.

Yuuri’s hand paused, the tip of his quill poised over the dragon’s eye. Victor pressed closer, trying to hear Yuuri think.

Yuuri sighed, a wave of exhaustion and melancholy washing over him as he whispered, “Are you all alone as well?”

Victor startled awake, his heart pounding despite the emptiness and ache in it. The shadows in the garden were long and low and Yakov’s stone was empty. He was alone.

_ Yakov? _ Victor called out. Absence answered him. Even Makkachin was gone.

His pulse beginning to race. Victor pushed out further, called out louder, reaching, grasping for a presence.  _ Yakov? _

_ What is it VItya? _

Relief flooded him.

_ Where are you? Where’s Makka? _

Victor tried hard not to sound like a child, though he very much felt like it.

_ Your pet insisted on going to the nearby mountain for the sweet grass there, _ Yakov grumped.  _ We’re on our way back. _

Soon, Yakov and then Makka appeared over the garden wall and landed in front of him. Makka trotted over, giving Victor a quick nuzzle before cantering back indoors.

Yakov lowered himself back down on his stone, joints creaking.

From the inner garden, they had a gorgeous view of the sunset, and Victor savored the comfortable silence as Yakov watched the shifting colours in the sky.

_ Lilia wants to call a conclave. _

Victor jerked to attention.  _ What’s that? _ Victor stared at Yakov who sat frowning at the last rays of the disappeared sun.

Victor noted the lines on Yakov’s face, the weariness etched into every crease. He seemed older, tired, less corporeal than when Victor last remembered seeing him. As the first stars showed their faces overhead, they seemed to alight on Yakov, casting him in a twilight glow, as if he was one of them. Yakov looked towards him.

_ Lilia wants to call a conclave, _ Yakov repeated.  _ She thinks it’s time. _

The hairs on the back of Victor’s neck prickled.  _ Time, _ Victor said slowly,  _ for what? _

Yakov threw him a stoney look. Victor returned it.

_ You know what I mean. With things this bad, she wants to call on Emlya or Aerwath. _

_ And I will not be able to hear your call. _

_ And what if that fails? _

Yakov pursed his lips together, and the silence stretched between them.

_ Perhaps then it is time for some of us older ones to rest. _ Dread filled Victor with cold and he labored to keep his breathing even. Yakov seemed not to notice, continuing,  _ But beyond that, it is up to the rest of you and the new leader. _ Yakov took a deep breath.  _ Victor, it’s time you took up the mantle and became the official leader. _

Victor could feel Yakov’s eyes on him, vigilant and unyielding in his charge. Ever since he was old enough to understand the expectations set upon him, Victor had spent his whole life preparing for this. He had been raised for this, revelled in this, rebelled against this, resigned himself to this.

And yet, when Yakov uttered the words that Victor had been waiting to hear his whole life, there was no elation or sense of accomplishment. Only cold dread and numbness.

_ Yakov— I… _

Victor stopped, unsure of what to say.

Yakov grunted, saying somewhat gruffly,  _ It’s about time we made it official. We’ll announce it at the conclave. It’s not like anyone would be surprised. I’ve been too long at this. _

And Yakov looked old, old and grey and silver, like the stars. Victor’s heart seized.

_ You’ll still be around though, right? In— in case I need advice— or something... _

Yakov snorted.  _ Advice? When have you ever listened to what I had to say? _ Yakov’s lips twitched.

Victor could only stare, heart sinking down to join the fish in his stomach.

Yakov coughed and cleared his throat.  _ Anyway, about what I’m really here for... I wanted to prepare you. What are you going to propose? _

_ Pro-pose? _ Somewhere, in the hidden recesses of his mind, Yuuri’s face flashed. Victor choked on air and coughed,  _ What— what do you mean, Yakov? _

Yakov eyed him critically.  _ Come on, Vitya. As the new leader, the others will be expecting you to lead them. They’ll want to know what you plan, what you decide on doing. Decision and decisiveness. If you hesitate, you’ve already failed. You asked me what to do if Emlya and Aerwath do not answer us. Well, what do you plan to do then, Vitya? _

Victor’s mind was reeling, his thoughts splitting in a thousand different directions as the enormity of the task before him sank him. As leader, his word would be near law, few would oppose him, and with the older dragons gone… To be a leader is to take responsibility, to be accountable, to bear the hopes and lives of those that depended on him.

In these precarious times, when fear and despair slept on every doorstep, Victor’s decisions and choices would decide the fate of them all. How could he bear this? How could anybody bear this alone? Yakov had had Lilia, and to a lesser extent, he had had Victor. But if Yakov meant to leave, who would Victor be left with?

And what could Victor do? Nebogori was failing, dying, crumbling. Things had only gotten worse over the past few months, a fact that Victor had avoided confronting by retreating into sleep. But now, there was nowhere to hide now, no shirking of duty, no dreaming of other lands. Or was there?

Was there an alternative to staying here, to fighting a losing battle, to watching as their home fell apart, slowly but surely? Was there no other choice? Victor felt slightly sick, hopelessness closing in around him. Was there nothing to be done? Was there nowhere else to go? Could Victor find no way forward that didn’t lead to the dragons’ demise? Would no one help him? 

Then, from the very core of his being, the words he had carried with him since before he opened his eyes reverberated through him:

_ The path before you is hidden. _

_ What did you say, Victor? _

_ Nothing, Yakov. _ Victor’s heart hammered in his chest, his pulse racing. A chill spread through him, debilitating yet invigorating at the same time.

_ I cannot guide you _

_ Yakov, how much time left do you think Nebogori has? _

Yakov’s brow creased.  _ What do you— _

_ You know what I mean, Yakov. _ Victor began to pace in front of Yakov, his tail flicking back and forth in agitation.  _ How long do you think we’ll have before we have to abandon Nebogori? _

There was a pause, and just when Victor was about to repeat his question, Yakov answered,  _ We can hold out until the next Winter Solstice at best. _

Victor made some quick calculations.  _ Alright then. _

With a smile and a flounce in his step, Victor turned and headed back indoors. Yakov scrambled to his feet.

_ Vitya, what— Wait, where are you going?! _

_ You said it yourself, Yakov. If I hesitate, I have already failed. _ Victor strode into the spacious second floor living room and headed for one of the spare rooms. He rummaged around and began pulling out various saddlebags. Yakov caught up to him.

_ Wait, Vitya! Stop. _ Yakov gaped at the saddlebags scattered around the room. _ You’re leaving??? _

_ There’s no time to waste! Give my apologies to the rest of the conclave. _

_ Vitya! You can’t leave! _ Yakov planted himself in front of the doorway, barring Victor’s way back out. Yakov’s eyes whirled with agitation, smoke and storm clouds gathered around him. Victor vaulted gracefully over Yakov and waltzed into the living room, beginning to fill the saddlebags with clothes and blankets.  _ Vitya! HOW CAN YOU WALK AWAY FROM US NOW??? _

Thunder rumbled and Victor stopped, turning to face Yakov. Confusion. Anger. Betrayal. There was a storm of emotions working their way through his old mentor’s mind, and for one moment, Victor considered abandoning his plan.

_ Be true to yourself _

Victor approached Yakov, lowering his head so that they were level with each other.  _ Dasvidanya, Yakov. _ Victor pressed his forehead against Yakov’s.  _ I’m sorry I can’t do as you say this time. But wait for me. On Winter’s Soltice, I will return. _

_ But Vitya—! _

_ Yakov, you have my support in...whatever you think is best. My home is open to the others. You should be able to fit three or four comfortably. They are welcome to everything in it. _

Yakov watched dumbstruck as Victor stuffed a pair of boots into his bag.

_ You’re going below, as a human?  _ Yakov spluttered. Victor paused in his packing, then tilted his head at Yakov and smiled. Yakov looked like he was about to burst.  _ Vitya, don’t do this! _

Victor called to Makkachin who jogged over to him and capered with excitement. Victor grinned and led them outside.

_ Yakov, you’re the best mentor I could ever ask for. Goodbye. _

Victor took to the skies with Makka at his side. A weight seemed to lift from him, and they soared away from Nebogori. The world was open to him, and somewhere, there had to be an answer for the dragons. There must be.

_ I’m coming, Yuuri. We won’t be alone anymore. _

 

* * *

 

The sheets were tangled around Yuuri when he awoke. Kicking his legs free, he blinked up at the blurry ceiling. The dark lines of the rafters crisscrossed the weaved straw above him, too straight and too stiff to be the winding rivers and roads he remembered from his dream. His dream. It had been a new one but in a familiar pattern, yet another in a continuous story. Could dreams even continue? Why did these all feel as if they were connected somehow? Yuuri flopped onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to  _ remember _ . 

Dreams were elusive things, slipping through the grasps of memory and conscious thought. There were clouds this time. Yuuri remembered the cold moisture on his skin as he dipped below the fog of white to peer at the land beneath him. Was that the shoreline? The dark flat expanse the sea? The irregular shapes beyond mountains of ice? That dark ribbon a river? Those pinpricks of light a cluster of buildings? Looking down, Yuuri recalled the familiar thrill and apprehension of reaching a new destination, the bubbling excitement of facing the unknown and preparing to meet it. A name for the place danced on the tip of his tongue. Why did it feel so familiar?

Yuuri lifted his head and turned it on its side, gulping in air. The dream was gone, forgotten even as he tried to remember it, leaving only emptiness and a sense of loss. Heat pricked the back of his eyes. Ridiculous.  _ It was only a dream, _ he chided himself.

Gingerly, he touched his cheeks, fingertips brushing at the underside of his eyes. They were dry, smooth, free of tell tale trails. Yuuri sighed and slumped into his bed, listening to the sounds of his family preparing for the day. The onsen their family ran had scant few guests these days, but the locals still frequented the inn for his parents’ superb cooking. 

Besides the kitchen, the inn needed general upkeep as well. It would not do to be unprepared should a customer wishing to patronize their establishment appear. Yuuri had grown up with and was well acquainted with the routine — the never ending cycle of his mother calling him to get out of bed to help with the sweeping, cleaning, and changing of sheets. Even though he had been allowed to sleep in thus far since returning, his list of tasks grew everyday and it would not be long before he would be fully roped back into things.

“Yuuri, don’t hole up in your room.” His mother’s voice floated through the door to his room as if on cue. Some things never changed. Yuuri sighed, pushed himself upright and reached for his glasses. His journal clattered to the floor, landing open on a page where he had sketched out the face of the dragon that had saved him on the Winter Solstice. “Yuuri,” his mother called again. “Help shovel snow!”

_ Snow? _

Yuuri put on his glasses and pushed the heavy drapes aside, peering out his window.

“Wow, what the…?” Snow — white and thick and cold — coated the trees and covered the ground. The few denizens who had braved the weather hurried around outside, bundled in furs and cutting knee-deep troughs through the snow-buried street. Yuuri’s breath misted on the glass and he sat back on his heels, letting the drapes fall shut. “It’s already Spring too…”

Ice and snow were not foreign to Hasetsu. Their village depended on it, had built their livelihoods around it. The waters around Hasetsu were long thought to be magical. Ice harvesting operations and hot spring inns used to abound, each touting their brand of regenerative, healing, or youthful properties. Yuuri’s father remembered a time when their inn served dignitaries or noblemen from far off lands, but that had been when he had been but a toddler. Since then, many of the hot springs had dried up or lost whatever claim they had as a magical remedy, and the Katsuki’s inn now stood as the sole onsen establishment, their reputation intact if diminished. Ice harvesting still sustained Hasetsu’s economy, but the older villagers had always complained of a rising snow line, and Yuuri, after being away for five cycles, could see the evidence. 

Winters were shorter, rain was becoming more common than snow, and there had been no sign of a coming snowfall, certainly not such a massive one. He wondered what Minako would have to say about this.

“Yuuri, are you awake?”

Yuuri climbed out of bed. “I’m up!” he called, walking over to his wardrobe and rummaging in the back for his satchel so that he could stash his journal away. His staff tipped over, disturbed from it’s precarious lean on the side of the wardrobe. Yuuri managed to catch it with his foot before it hit the floor. He set it back gingerly in place and frowned, his hand lingering on the twisted wood.

He really did need to practice. Yuuri rolled his shoulders, feeling the tendons and muscles stretch and pop. Maybe once he had finished shovelling.

Yuuri shut the wardrobe door and made his way to the bathing room, trying not to let the guilt and shame get to him. Here he was, Ice Mage Apprentice extraordinaire...about to go shovel snow. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, Yuuri argued with himself as he undressed. It just didn’t seem worth the risk of messing up. They were already knee-deep in snow. 

No need to risk burying them in it.

 

* * *

 

Shovelling snow turned into an all day affair. He cleared the pathways to and from the restaurant first, then was called in to help with cleaning out some rooms before been sent back out to clear the snow around the rest of the grounds. The day stayed chilly, and Yuuri sympathized with the passer-bys that bemoaned the loss of the cherry blossoms, clutching their cloaks to themselves as they stopped to talk to him.

He was sore, stiff, and wondering if the risk of using magic would have been worth it after all when Mari poked her head out and called to him.

“Yuuri, the guests have been complaining about the hot spring waters being cold. Could you take a look?”

“Cold?” Yuuri raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had asked Minako once, soon after he had begun studying under her, if the waters around Hasetsu really were enchanted.

Minako had taken a long draught before looking at him in the eye and saying, “Maybe there used to be. But it’s been a long time since anything magical inhabited these waters.”

Mari shrugged. “It’s one of the outdoor pools by the back. I have to go help with the dinner service,” she said, disappearing back indoors.

Yuuri replaced the shovel in the shed and headed for the hot springs. The pools that Mari had indicated were located near the perimeter of the inn’s grounds, away from the main building and general foot traffic. A fence ran around the bathing area, marking the edge of their property and providing privacy to bathers. 

Yuuri entered the entrance to the bathing area, first turning right towards the female changing rooms. Yuuri stopped at the door, entering after knocking and announcing himself. The changing area was deserted. Yuuri ran a practiced eye over the shelves and made a note to replace a few bathrobes before he stepped around the wall blocking off the hot spring pools from view.

The pools were uncovered, roofless, and lay open to the outside. Dead leaves and debris from the storm were all that occupied them. Yuuri approached the largest pool and crouched by its edge. He dipped his hand into the steaming water and frowned.

The water was warm, hot — perfect in temperature. Had the reported change in temperature been temporary? Caused by falling snow, perhaps?

The scrape of stone was all the warning Yuuri had before a something landed with a thump on his back. He flailed and managed to brace himself on the stones lining the pool, inches away from falling in. Yuuri turned.

“Vicchan?!” Excited yelps filled his ears. Vicchan pranced in front of him, his front bear paws scuffing the stone floor and his back goat hooves tapping a beat. The bat wings on his back flapped with enthusiasm and Vicchan licked his face, stubby deer antlers barely missing poking him in the face. “Vicchan, stop,” Yuuri giggled, trying to calm the capering bundle of fur before him.

Vicchan caught the hem of his robe and pulled, barking as he ran towards the exit and back again. Vicchan looked at him expectantly, eyes bright and lively.

Yuuri blinked as he adjusted his glasses. What had got Vicchan so riled up?

Yuuri followed Vicchan into the empty changing room and back towards the entrance. Instead of heading back towards the main building, Vicchan headed straight, towards the male changing rooms.

“Vicchan?” A muffled bark was all he got in answer. Yuuri pushed through the doors, only to be met with a most unexpected sight.

Big black eyes and a soft brown nose whickered at him. A strong gust of wind buffeted him and Yuuri almost fell over in surprise. The horse neighed, dipping its head down so that Yuuri could see down its back to where a pair of wings sprouted on either side of its shoulders.

“What the— ?!” Yuuri sat down in surprise.  _ A pegasus _ . He had heard of these creatures before, read about them in the Order’s ancient library, seen faded drawings on dusty parchments in danger of crumbling to dust if you sneezed wrong. They were supposed to have disappeared, hunted to extinction like the unicorn and the phoenix. How was one standing here, docile, and...nudging him in the chest?

Yuuri stared at the pegasus pressing its nose into the front of his robes. At first, Yuuri thought that he might be trying to chew at them, but then he realized that the pegasus’ mouth was already full of something.

The pegasus pawed the ground and nudged against Yuuri’s chest harder. Vicchan appeared around his ankles, wings flapping and head butting his back. Soft silk fluttered into Yuuri’s lap as the pegasus dropped what it had been holding in its mouth. With a pleased sigh, the pegasus turned and retreated, tail swishing as it headed towards the pools. When it reached the end of the awning, the pegasus looked back, tossing its head and giving a high pitched neigh before it leaped into the air and disappeared into the night sky in a flurry of snow and feathers.

Yuuri gaped at the empty space where a real live  _ pegasus _ had just walked up to him and given him something before flying away. His eyes dropped to the soft heap in his lap. Yuuri held it out. A robe of shimmering pink and white unfolded, black accents and gold trim glittering in the light. It was easily the most expensive thing Yuuri had held, though the material and make were unfamiliar to him.

A loud splash caught his attention and Yuuri looked towards the pools. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

Getting to his feet, Yuuri stepped cautiously towards the wall and peered around it.

The steam from the pools hung like like a fog above them. Yuuri’s glasses misted over, obscuring his vision. But not enough that he couldn’t see the figure of a man — all sculpted muscle and strong, graceful lines — rise up butt naked from the other end of the largest pool, the one with a fountain in the middle and extend a long, graceful arm towards him. 

Like an actor performing a grand scene, his tone sure and inviting, words curling around his strange accent, the man said with gusto, “Thank you, brave sir! You have saved me from that beast. I am forever in your debt. Allow me the chance to stay by your side and repay it!”

And he winked.

 

* * *

 

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Niliforv— Nikiforov... Victor Nikiforov.” Victor finished stumbling over the syllables and put on his best smile. It had been a slight oversight on his part. Between leaving, travelling, tracking down Yuuri, and coming up with a way to meet him, he had forgotten that humans collected a family name. The translation of his name into the language of the last town Makkachin and he had stopped at on the way here was the best he could do on the spot. Nikiforov. Nikephoros. Carrying victory. It would have to do.

Yuuri exchanged glances with the human woman beside him.  _ Minako _ , Victor reminded himself, trying to commit her name and face to memory among the many he had met that evening.

In his dreams, Yuuri had seemed so alone; Victor had watched him say goodbye to Celestino and Phichit, had felt his sadness, his loneliness, his despair. He hadn’t expected to find Yuuri with his family here. The woman with two-toned coloured hair was Mari, his sister; the elderly man with the cheerful smile was his father; and the short portly older woman was his mother. Yuuri looked very much like her. But then Victor remembered the hot springs Yuuri had told him about on the Winter’s Solstice. Yuuri was home.

“Can you tell us what happened again?” Minako tapped the low table between them.

“Of course,” Victor shifted so that he sat, cross-legged on the straw mat covering the wood paneled floor, relieving the pressure on his knees and ankles. “I was bathing in the water, such lovely  _ hot _ spring water when that— that  _ beast _ appeared, rampaging and— and making a mess of everything!” In the back recesses of his mind, Makkachin snorted. Victor hushed him. “It took my robe!” Victor clutched the bundle of silken fabric to his chest and tried to look aggrieved. Makkachin nickered. Victor bit his lip. “Anyway! This young man appeared and saved me!” Victor beamed at Yuuri. Yuuri flushed, looking flustered.

“It— It was nothing!” Yuuri waved his hands in front of himself, the flush spreading down his neck and to the tips of his ears. “I was just checking the water because someone complained it was cold. It was really Vicchan. He came and got me and… It was a pegasus! The thing that took your robe!” Yuuri stared at Victor, as if hoping that he wasn’t going crazy.

“Is that what you saw too?” Minako arched an eyebrow at him.

“It… It looked like a horse with wings,” Victor said, sitting up straighter and making sure the smile was still on his face.

“Hmm,” Minako said.

Minako was interesting. Her attire rattled with magic — the feathers, bones, skins, furs, teeth, and claws interweaved about her person singing with residual energy.

Like Yuuri, the aura around her was that of one who used magic regularly — a hum that coated them like a scent, draped around them like a shawl. But unlike Yuuri, whose use of elemental magic left a familiar clean and sharp taste, Minako’s magic was murkier, mixed, and mingled into something new, different, familiar, yet unfamiliar. Druid? Dryad? There were forces other than the Elemental Gods in this world, but Victor had only ever heard of them in stories, and according to Lilia, they had long closed themselves off from the world. Had they taught their magic to humans before they disappeared? Did humans pass them on? Was Minako a disciple to them?

Victor eyed the staff of wood laid on the floor by Minako where she sat. The staff was old — a single length of wood that looked rough hewn and worn with age and use to the unknowing eye. Yet Victor saw the way the wood bent, unstrained and unfettered as if it had been guided there as it grew. Runes and symbols were carved into the calcified bark and strings of teeth and feathers were tied around it. Its ends branched out like a nest which held a single large pearl the size of both his fists. The pearl shone, pale and opalescent, mesmerizing like the swirl of ocean waves crashing against the shore. Victor could almost hear the rhythmic swoosh and pull of the sea, how it laughed at him, mocked him, beckoned him on. The lanterns flickered and the pearl glowed white, like teeth revealed in the curve of a smile in warm brown tanned skin. The smell of salt and brine was strong, the air moist and warm as he leaned in—

Minako picked up her staff and stood.

“Minako-sensei?” Yuuri jumped to his feet.

“If there’s a pegasus around, I want to be the first to find it,” Minako strode towards the doorway. 

Victor blinked and jumped to his feet, suddenly afraid. “What will you do if you find it?” he called.

Minako halted and looked back at him, a calculating expression in her eyes. “There are very few magical creatures left in the world. The ones that are left should be cared for, lest those with only greed in their hearts think to use them for their own selfish means. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Nikiforov?”

The tension drained out of him and Victor raised his hands, palms facing forward. “Please, call me Victor. And it’s good to know that there are people who still care about the magical creatures.”

Minako blinked and then smiled. “I will take my leave then. Good evening, Victor.”

When she disappeared past the curtain through the doorway, Victor sighed and turned to Yuuri. “So, Yuuri,” Victor smiled, “May I call you  _ Yuu- _ ri?”

Yuuri startled. “Err… Yes, I suppose, Mr… err… Mr—”

“Victor.” Victor said firmly, beaming at Yuuri.

“Vic—”

“Yuuri, we need to— Oh, I’m sorry!” Mari stopped as she appeared through the doorway and saw them. She dipped into a half bow. “I didn’t realize you were still here with my brother, sir.”

“Oh, not a problem!” Victor tried to wave her concern away.

“We were just finishing up.” Yuuri stood, eyes looking anywhere but at Victor. “Would you like to stay at the inn for the night, Mr. Nikiforov? Free of charge, of course, for...for today’s inconvenience.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you.” Victor’s fingers twisted in the silk robe and he took a breath. “Could— Could I stay longer?”

Yuuri and Mari stared at him. “Please,” Victor pressed, “I still owe you a debt for helping me,” he inclined his body towards Yuuri. “I lost all my possessions in that storm, and I don’t have any other place to stay, but I am happy to work and help out around the inn.” He was babbling now, useless, practiced words that seemed so thin, so dishonest.  _ Please _ , he prayed. “Let me stay.”  _ Let me stay close to you _ .

To his horror, Yuuri’s eyes widened and tears sprung in them. Victor stared at Yuuri in shock, watching as Yuuri’s heart remembered what his mind could not. Shame and guilt welled up in Victor, and he cursed his cowardice and the pain his selfishness had caused. 

Yet before he could say anything, before he could apologize, and call the whole thing off, Yuuri’s lips parted and his answer slipped out.

“Okay.”

Mari raised an eyebrow, “Right.” She glanced at Victor, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from Yuuri. “I’ll let Yuuri show you to your room then. Breakfast begins at seven.”

Mari left, and Victor was alone with Yuuri again. Yuuri turned away. “I’ll take you to your room now. Please come with me.”

Victor followed Yuuri, two steps behind the man who walked with his head held high, his hands held stiffly by his side, closed off and confused. Victor wanted to reach out and catch him, wanted to hold his hand and explain, beg for forgiveness for causing him such grief. He wondered if Yuuri would understand, if he would forgive him.

“Victor.”

Victor looked up. Yuuri had pulled ahead and was about to disappear through a curtained doorway. 

“Your room is this way.” Yuuri tilted his head. “Come, it’s easy to get lost here. Please, stay close to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With any luck, I'll have the next chapter up by tomorrow! Please cheer me on *\o/*


	6. On the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, here are some concept sketches of characters and places I did while writing the fic: https://imgur.com/a/osomIMM  
>  ~~I started on Yuri as well but never really finished him ToT~~
> 
> As always, kudos, questions, short comments, long comments, discussions with other readers are always welcome and invited on this fic. You can also leave an anonymous comment on this fic by logging out of ao3. If you leave a “<3” in the comments, I will take that as a sign that you enjoyed this chapter and my mission is accomplished! :D
> 
> You are more than welcome to talk to me on tumblr or discord as well! I am @imaginarydragonling on tumblr and @felix #6267 on discord (yes I changed my tag).
> 
> Anyway, thank you for being patient with me and please enjoy this next chapter!

Yuuri had to admit that he was surprised. When Victor had offered to help around the inn in exchange for board and lodging, Yuuri hadn’t quite believed him. Somehow, the image of Victor doing manual labour didn’t quite fit. Something about his story didn’t quite ring true either, though Yuuri couldn’t quite say why. But his parents had been ecstatic for the extra help, and Yuuri couldn’t find a reason to object to the arrangement.

It wasn’t that he disliked Victor. Everything about the strange man screamed confidence, flamboyance, bravado. Not that Yuuri was staring, but Victor’s hands were smooth, his nails well kept, unblemished; and the way he spoke...Victor was clearly used to being served rather than serving. Yuuri half expected to discover his bed empty and Victor gone come daybreak. So when Victor had turned up promptly at seven in the morning wearing the inn’s uniforms and ready to roll up his sleeves, Yuuri had been more than a little intrigued.

Of course, the task of showing Victor the ropes fell to Yuuri. But Victor proved to be an attentive pupil. He showed enthusiasm in the mundane and a childlike wonder in the ordinary, as if the chores Yuuri showed him were novelties to be embraced, enjoyed, even savoured.

As the days wore on, Victor’s earnestness waned, though his diligence did not and Yuuri began to relax. It was hard not to. Victor was polite, charming, engaging. The patrons loved him, his family liked him, and if Yuuri was being honest, he enjoyed being around Victor too. 

“Yuuri.” Yuuri looked back over his shoulder. “Where— ” Victor slipped on the ice frosting the ground, shooting out a hand to steady himself, “Where are we going?”

The mountain they were climbing was steep, virgin territory that rose above Hasetsu and into the forests surrounding it. There was always snow in the mountains, but Yuuri counted them lucky that there wasn’t more, especially after the weather they had had.

The snow from the storm that had swept Victor into Hasetsu and relieved him of his belongings had melted by the end of the week. The roads clear, Victor was free to leave, yet on the day of his planned departure, icy rains had stayed him. Once the rains had passed, strong winds had toppled several trees and Victor’s departure was delayed again. It was as if nature conspired to keep him at Hasetsu. By the time the roads were safe for travel again, summer was upon them, and with it, sailors and sea merchants from the South.

The inn was busy then, filled with visitors eager to spend their coin. A pair of willing hands was hard to turn away, and Yuuri’s family soon stopped inquiring on Victor’s departure plans. Victor seemed to embrace his role, never complaining of early mornings no matter how late the nights.

As early as Yuuri rose, Victor rose earlier. His bed was always empty when Yuuri dared to peek into his room. Once or twice, Yuuri had glimpsed Victor slipping away into the woods surrounding the inn, a small bundle of apples or carrots tucked under his arm. He always returned before breakfast though, and Yuuri thought that despite his cheerfulness, perhaps Victor found it hard to be around so many people all the time, especially if he was used to travelling alone. If early morning walks alone was something Victor enjoyed and kept him happy, who was Yuuri to begrudge him that? Victor was always pleasant, he was eager to please, and he always had a ready smile. Yuuri could stare at that smile forever. 

“Yuuri?” Victor blinked up at him, breathing deeply. Sweat dampened his brow, the oversized cloak Yuuri had borrowed from Takeshi Nishigori for him was open and exposed his collarbones. Victor’s long silver hair cascaded over his shoulders like the finest silk, free from the ribbon restraining it. Victor huffed and tossed his head, trying to get the unruly locks out of his eyes. Victor’s ears and the tips of his nose were pink, and the irises of his eyes, when they focused again on Yuuri, were unfairly blue.

Yuuri blushed and hurried to answer Victor’s question. “There’s a lake up here that Minako wanted me to check out. She thinks the water might be pure enough for one of her potions, and even if it’s not, the village could still use it to harvest ice from.”

Minako had pointed him towards it and when Yuuri had mentioned it at the dinner table, Victor had volunteered to come. Victor always offered to help Yuuri whenever he could. Yuuri had to admit that they worked well together. Victor had an uncanny ability to make even the most tedious tasks fun, and chores got done in half the time. 

To his surprise, Yuuri found talking to Victor calming. He was fascinated by Yuuri’s stories from travelling with Celestino and Phichit, and showed a fair interest in Yuuri’s training as a mage. Yuuri tried to keep him entertained, supplying him with some of Phichit’s stories as well, though Yuuri was sure that he was doing a poor job on the delivery of them. Victor never seemed to mind, and when he asked Yuuri to show him magic, Yuuri couldn’t resist showing off.

His efforts went well, disaster stayed away, and Yuuri had to focus on doing more instead of holding back. Unfortunately, the slightly misshapen forms he produced were a stark reminder of his upcoming Trials and out of practice he was. With Victor around and helping out at the inn, Yuuri was also out of excuses.

Yuuri gripped his staff tighter.

“How do you know we’re going the right way?”

“The river.” Yuuri pointed in the general direction of the river they had been following. “This high up, the lake is bound to be the river’s source. This is the fastest way up.” 

“Amazing! Hu— You have such strange and inventive ways to read your surroundings.” Victor’s eyes glittered with admiration. Yuuri blushed.

“It-it’s nothing! Don’t you have ways to navigate as well?”

Victor paused to think about this, eyes straying and turning inward. Finally, he looked up and said, “My homeland was different. It was true that there were mountains, but they were always covered in ice and snow. If you wanted to know where you were going, you would consult the stars.” Victor grinned at him, but there was something in the gleam of his eyes that felt strained to Yuuri; that felt sad.

Yuuri watched as Victor sat his pack down and re-tied his hair. The ribbon was loose and a sheath of his fringe slipped over Victor’s left eye. Victor brushed it away and sighed.

Yuuri realized he was staring and said, “Are you tired? Do you want to take a break?”

Yuuri looked at the sky above them. The weather was clear, not a cloud in the sky and blue as far as the eye could see. It was just after midday and they had been walking at a brisk pace since dawn. They had a lot of ground to cover if they wanted to make it home before dark.

Victor’s laugh drew his attention. “No no. I’m just not used to walking this much.” Victor wiped at his brow and heaved his pack back over his shoulders.

“Oh, do you not travel on foot much?”

Victor stilled, and then looked up at Yuuri with a smile. “I stuck to the main roads and asked for a ride whenever I could. I also didn’t walk up mountains.” Victor grinned at him and Yuuri’s stomach did a somersault. “Let’s keep going. You want to get home before dark, don’t you?”

The sun had passed its zenith when they first glimpsed the lake. It lay still, rippleless in the breezeless air, a perfect mirror reflecting the mountain peaks around it, the blue sky above it, and the glare of the sun in it.

“Wow,” Victor gasped beside him. It was the first word Victor had spoken in awhile. His breathing was still laboured from the climb, his cheeks a healthy pink flush on his pale skin, and his eyes round with wonder as he breathed in the sight, chest rising and falling under the opened neckline of his cloak.

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. “Shall we?”

They descended slowly, inching their way down the rocks and towards the pebbled shore. When they reached a sandy patch by the edge, Victor threw down his pack and flopped on the ground, long arms and legs splayed as he lay on his back and gulped in air.

“I don’t want to move for a week,” Victor groaned.

Yuuri stifled a laugh, set down his pack, and sat next to Victor — not too close so that they could touch, not too far to be unfriendly. He raised his hands to the sun, calculating the time. “You have time for a nap. We have to head back when there is a  hands-width between the sun and that peak.”

Victor moaned and covered his face with an arm. Yuuri chuckled and imagined Victor asleep, long silver lashes on pale cheeks as he slept — a prince at peace — his breath coming in gentle murmurs through the high bridge of his well shaped nose and the subtle curves of his supple pink lips. Yuuri wondered just how soft those lips were before abruptly shutting off that thought.

Victor rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an arm. “Wouldn’t you like to sleep with me?”

Yuuri balked, turning to protest his innocence when he caught sight of the sly glint in Victor’s eye, the way his mouth curved with mischief, making his eyes glitter with laughter and mirth.

“Don’t tease me like that!” Yuuri shoved Victor’s shoulder, sending him tumbling back with a peal of laughter, his mouth open in the adorable shape of a heart.

Yuuri blushed and hugged his knees close to his chest, gripping tightly onto his forearms as he stared resolutely at the lake and away from the laughing man next to him, wishing his blush would subside.

When Victor came back up for air, his tone was apologetic. “ _ Yuuu _ ri, I’m sorry. You’re just so cute when you get embarrassed.”

Yuuri buried his face in his arms, refusing to look at Victor and wishing his ears would cooperate for once and not turn crimson at the slightest embarrassment. “Go away and leave me alone, Victor!” Yuuri grumbled into the fabric of his sleeves. Victor had an uncanny ability to say the most outrageous things at the most inconvenient times for Yuuri. It was almost like he could read minds with how often he seemed to hit the nail on the head or know just exactly what to say to get Yuuri to blush. Damn his traitorous heart. Why did Victor affect him so?

There was movement next to him and the rustling of a backpack. Yuuri heard the sounds of something being unwrapped and then a tug on his sleeve.

“Peace offering?”

Yuuri glanced at him. Victor sat next to him, arms outstretched and offering his bento lunch to him. Unlike Yuuri’s lean serving of salmon — a self-imposed diet to keep himself in shape for his trials — Victor’s had Yuuri’s favourite breaded pork cutlets, dipped in egg and deep fried to golden brown perfection. Victor’s eyes twinkled as Yuuri’s mouth watered.

“We can share,” Yuuri muttered. Victor’s smile deepened.

They sat and ate, side by side, talking about everything and nothing at all. It was comfortable, familiar, and reminded Yuuri of mealtimes with Phichit. It was hard to believe that he had only met Victor a few weeks ago.

When they were done, Yuuri stood and dusted the crumbs off his front. He stooped to pick up his staff and approached the edge of the lake.

“Are you going to do magic now?” Victor perked up behind him.

Yuuri looked over his shoulder at him. Victor was propped up on his elbows, watching him. His long hair obscured half his face and his eyes glittered like gemstones behind a silver veil.

Yuuri cleared his throat. “I should practice. This is as good a place as any. Plenty of water. My magic has been a bit...unpredictable.” Yuuri cringed in on himself. “You had better stay back there.” He looked back at Victor and worried his bottom lip.

“I’ll stay right here so that you have enough space to do what you need to do.” Victor’s smile was understanding, encouraging, reassuring. Yuuri felt the anxiety in him ease.

With a brief nod, Yuuri faced the lake again and planted his feet apart.. He took a deep breath to concentrate, poised his staff above the water’s surface, and then swung it in a circle over his head before bringing it down again.

Ice — translucent white and solid as rock — blossomed from the point of contact. A block of ice, the shape of an irregular circle, floated on the water. Yuuri nudged it with his foot, sending it sailing towards the center of the lake.

Cheering and clapping broke out behind him, and Yuuri turned to see Victor’s face lit up with admiration. Yuuri’s lips quirked up in a smile. Victor may be well travelled, but he must not have seen much magic if a simple freezing spell could thrill him so.

Yuuri exhaled and centered himself again. Victor may be impressed, but the mages from the Order testing him would not be. He was out of practice and his ice forms needed a lot of work to be presentable. Cognition. Control. Confidence. He needed more of them if he was going to prove his competence on the ice.

Yuuri dipped the tip of his staff into the water and flicked his wrist forward. A path of ice raced ahead of him, crooked thin and fragile. It melted and disappeared before it reached ten feet. Yuuri grimaced and tried again.

Alternating between the two spells, he spent the next hands-width or so practicing. He could feel Victor watching him, but to his surprise, Yuuri found that he did not mind. Rather, Victor’s words of encouragement and praise seemed to steady Yuuri, fuel him and keep him going.

When Yuuri stopped to drink from the canteen Victor brought him, the lake was peppered with mini icebergs and half formed bridges.

“Well done, Apprentice Mage,” Victor said, watching Yuuri’s handiwork float by.

“Thanks.” Yuuri wiped his mouth on his sleeve, breathing in deep. He was warm and perspiring from the effort. Yuuri unclasped his cloak and made to toss it aside. Instead, Victor took it and folded it over his arm.

“They’ve gotten a lot better,” Victor said, eyeing an almost perfect circle of ice float by.

Yuuri watched as it bumped against another piece, breaking in half. “Not quite good enough,” Yuuri said, rolling up his sleeves.

“You’re going to keep practicing?”

Yuuri nodded, getting ready again.

“But aren’t you tired? You seem tired…” Victor pulled at a lock of hair, his fingers twisting around the ends of it.

“It’s alright,” Yuuri smiled at him. “I’ve got great stamina.”

Victor blinked and Yuuri thought he saw a flicker of a shadow pass behind his eyes. But then Victor was smiling and the sun was shining and Victor said, “I suppose part of it is from traipsing around mountains all day, but you really are amazing, Katsuki Yuuri.”

Victor winked and Yuuri stared at the retreating figure of his back, silver hair catching the sunlight and seeming to glow with its own light. Giving himself a shake, Yuuri turned back to work.

Gathering his strength, Yuuri channeled the magic around him again, bringing the end of his staff down and creating a large circle of ice — his best one yet. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri stepped onto it, feeling only a slight give and sway as it held his weight easily. He turned around to where Victor was standing, watching him.

“I’m going to head towards the center of the lake. There are some spells there I need to work on. And Minako wants her samples from there.” Seeing Victor nod, Yuuri pushed off from the side of the lake, sending his slab of ice sailing into open water with him on it. The temperature dropped around him and he shivered, but it was exhilarating as well. It felt a bit like flying.

When he felt like he was far enough away from the shore, Yuuri brought the ice to a stop, rotating slowly in place. Pulling out the glass vials he had brought, Yuuri filled them with the pristine, unsullied water and stashed them in his pocket again. Minako would be pleased. The water was crystal clear, surely pure enough for any spell or potion she had in mind.

One goal done, Yuuri adjusted his stance and concentrated again. Freezing the ice around him in sustained blasts, Yuuri only halted when there was a sizable field of ice around him —- plenty of space to move about without tipping himself over.

Throwing a last look at the shore, where Victor’s figure lay huddled on the ground, Yuuri readied himself for his more complex and impressive set of spells. He hoped Victor was watching.

An arc of ice over his shoulder. Three ice paths in quick succession. Summoning ice shards from the ground in a semi circular wall. One blast of ice into the distance for good measure.

Yuuri bent over and braced his arms on his knees, gasping for air. He felt light headed, short of breath, and exhausted; but pleased. Very pleased. He hadn’t lost control once. Even with the more difficult conjurations.

The lake around him was a garden of misshapen ice sculptures — half formed structures and failed attempts were scattered among his more successful ones. It felt good to wield magic again. Celestino would be pleased. 

Yuuri glanced upwards. The sun had tracked across the sky and was now heading towards the mountains.

Yuuri held up a hand to the clear sky. They would have to head back soon to make it home in time. He had time for one more spell.

Yuuri bit his bottom lip, wondering if he was pushing it. It was his first serious day back in training, but he felt good, felt capable, felt like he could do it. But should he?

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri looked towards the shore, where Victor was flagging him down.

“It’s getting late! Should we head back soon?”

Yuuri waved back. “In a minute. I want to do one more thing,” he shouted. Then, before he could think twice about it, he said with a rush, “Watch me, Victor!”

From this distance, Yuuri couldn’t see Victor face, but he could feel the surprise and astonishment from him, radiating across the water, warming him inside. Yuuri smiled to himself.

Refocusing his energy, Yuuri took deep calming breaths, counting to three on each inhale, hold, and exhale.

When he was ready, Yuuri closed his eyes and raised his staff towards the sky.

A glint, a glitter, and then the air above him was glimmering with frost — gathering and growing into a cloud, a spiral coil above him. Yuuri grit his teeth, struggling to maintain the fragile form even as his arms protested the spinning of his staff.

When enough ice had collected that Yuuri could feel the energy above him, barely restrained by the magic binding it, Yuuri tried to channel it into a shape, concentrating on how the ice was pointed like a head, powerful like a tail, and free with wings.

He’d done it! Yuuri stared up at the fluid form above him. It was much smaller than he remembered, but its shape was unmistakable — a miniature replica of the dragon that had saved him on the hill. Elation sprung up in Yuuri even as he sent the dragon circling in the air, gaining speed and girth. Yuuri’s lips parted in a smile and laughter bubbled from him. Channeling ice magic and creating snowballs was one thing, shaping and controlling magic like this was quite another, and Yuuri had done both today!

Thrilled with his success, a thought occurred to Yuuri and he turned, sending his beautiful creation — a crystalized creature of ice and snow — towards the shore, hoping that Victor could see.

Victor was indeed watching! Waving his arms frantically as he hollered and...yelled at Yuuri? Yuuri’s brow creased and his ice dragon lost altitude, wings fraying at the edges. What was Victor saying? Yuuri squinted, straining his ears to hear.

“...ook out, Yuuri! Look!!!  _ Look up! _ ”

Yuuri looked up and through the hazy form above him — claws extended, jaw open and filled with teeth — a dragon was coming straight at him.

Yuuri dived for the ground. With a roar, the dragon ripped through the remnants of Yuuri’s cloud of ice, jaws snapping shut around the space where his neck had been. Yuuri shielded his face as the sweep of its wings sent a flurry of ice swirling around him.

Yuuri scanned the skies in terror, anxious to not lose sight of his attacker. The dragon had already gained substantial altitude, its agile form glinting gold in the sunlight before it screamed something terrible and dove for Yuuri again.

Moving on instinct, Yuuri swung wildly at it with his staff, sending nothing but a wave of cold air at the dragon. It seemed enough to take the dragon by surprise as it wobbled, off-trajectory, and missed its mark again. Scrambling to his feet, Yuuri was prepared for the third attack. 

Victor’s distant cries of distress mingled with the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. Yuuri channeled a blast of ice, a proper one this time, at the dragon who veered neatly away, easily avoiding it. Emerald green eyes narrowed at him in disgust, and Yuuri’s mouth went dry at the murderous aura coming at him.

Yuuri saw the dragon’s chest expanding, breath being pulled in, before the dragon opened its maw and shot a stream of ice straight at him. He barely managed to block it. The ice shield he had managed to put up shattered. The air rained with fractured shards and Yuuri fell back onto the hard ice beneath him.

The dragon pounced and Yuuri only just managed to bring up his staff, preventing his face from getting ripped to shreds.

_ Die, Pig! _

Yuuri’s head rang with insults, each one more colourful than the last, as the dragon snapped and snarled above him, wrestling Yuuri with nothing between them but his wooden staff. It was strange, the insults were not his own, yet his mind rang with curses and expletives, acidic and toxic enough to hurt, if he wasn’t so concerned with staying alive.

“No! Get off me!”

With a heave, Yuuri pushed back, the dragon’s momentum carrying it over and off Yuuri. Freed, Yuuri rolled away, scrambling to get his feet under him.

A roar told him he was out of time. The dragon was charging at him, talons raking the ice like soft clay, propelling itself towards Yuuri. Out of options, Yuuri swung his staff at the creatures head. Thwack! His staff made contact by some miracle and the dragon’s eyes widened with surprise and fury. 

With a snarl, the dragon leapt back. Yuuri stumbled, jarred from the impact. A tail came out of nowhere and hit him in the side. Yuuri tumbled to the ground, his glasses flying askew and clattering on the ice. The world blurred around him.

The dragon crowed and repositioned to strike again. Fear clutched at Yuuri and half-blind, he swung at the golden shape again. He missed and the dragon bat at him with a wing. Desperate, Yuuri lunged at the dragon. This time, the dragon was prepared. Its jaws closed around the staff, yanked it out of Yuuri’s grasp and with a loud crack, snapped it in two like a dried twig.

Terror — cold and sharp and merciless — wrapped its talons around Yuuri. 

“No!” Yuuri cried. He was defenseless, at the mercy of a creature far more powerful than he could ever hope to be. How had it come to this?

The blast from the dragon came with little warning. There was a gust of freezing cold air and after, Yuuri found his legs immobile, frozen in place and encased in ice up to his hips. Futilely, he scratched at the cold hardness, looking up when he heard a laugh like rumbling thunder above him.

The dragon had drawn close, close enough that Yuuri could see the iridescence whirling in its emerald green eyes as it watched Yuuri struggle, and Yuuri heard from everywhere and nowhere, like rain lashing against a window, the words:

_ I have you now, human! Go freeze in hell! _

Yuuri could only stare, helpless, as the dragon drew its head back, breath filled its chest, and then…

“YURI, STOP!”

Too late. The dragon released a breath of ice. It came straight at Yuuri — a stream of ice and cold and frost. Yuuri closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable moment the ice touched his skin and turned him into an icicle.

His moment of death was agonizingly long. Yuuri could hear the rush of air, could sense the frigid air racing across his face, could feel the flecks of ice on his cheeks. Yuuri waited. But nothing further happened.

Yuuri opened his eyes and stared at the ice churning an inch away from the tip of his nose. The stream of ice hung stymied, redirected away by an invisible shield in front of his face.

The dragon’s mouth shut with a snap and the last of the blast gathered into a snowball before disintegrating in front of Yuuri’s disbelieving eyes. The dragon roared, fury and anger and tumult in its voice. But not towards Yuuri. The dragon’s head swung to its right, to a figure who stood, ten feet away with an arm outstretched, long silver hair flying and wrapping around a face red with exertion, chest heaving as piercing blue eyes stared wide.

“Victor?”

Victor’s eyes met his, and Yuuri felt again that curious sensation, like the curses hurled at him or the voice that came from nowhere and everywhere wishing him death, except this time, Yuuri knew, somehow with absolute surety, that it was Victor speaking, peering into Yuuri’s very soul, examining him, questioning him, querrying him:  _ Are you alright? _

And Yuuri answered,  _ I am well _ . 

Relief — honest and whole and raw — filled Victor’s eyes, softening his features. With a smile, Victor’s eyes turned away from him, looking towards the dragon who was bellowing and stamping its feet not six feet away from Yuuri.

As Victor’s attention withdrew and left Yuuri bereft, clutching for more, Yuuri’s heart ached, as if there was some forgotten memory, compelling him to scream.  _ Look at me! Don’t ever take your eyes off me. Please. Stay close to me. Please… _

“Yuri!” Victor called his name, but he was looking away, watching the dragon, attention focused on it, smiling at it, greeting it like an old friend. “What are you doing here?”

The dragon snarled, its mane bristling, and panic spiked in Yuuri as he realized the danger Victor was in.

“Victor, get back! It’s a dragon! It could kill you!”

The dragon glared and spat at him. A shard of ice as long as his arm came harrowing at him, before it struck and shattered against the wall of ice that appeared in front of Yuuri.

“Tsk tsk tsk. That’s rude, Yuri,” Victor drawled. “Why don’t we all calm down, find somewhere warm, and we can all talk this out.”

The dragon hissed, teeth bared at Victor who merely raised an eyebrow, haughty and expectant, as if he was talking to an angry kitten and not a mythical creature who could eat him alive or snap him in half like it did to Yuuri’s staff.

Before Yuuri could call out a warning again, the dragon attacked Victor, releasing three blasts of ice in quick succession at Victor — brave, defenseless,  _ mad  _ Victor.

“Victor!” Yuuri cried out.

It wasn’t even close. Victor avoided them with ease, moving with an almost inhuman grace and fluidity on the ice, even stretching out an arm as if to catch one. The blast of ice flew around him, behind him, following the motion of his arm before it shot towards the dragon and hit it square on the nose, distingrating like a snowball.

The dragon let out a startled cry before it lunged at Victor. Before it had moved two feet, ropes of ice appeared — twining around the dragon’s ankles, arching over its shoulders, curving over its neck — lashing it and pinning him to the ground. The dragon roared, furious at its entanglement while Victor strode over to it calmly, stared at it with ice in his eyes, and said, “You are going to let him go now. You will transform and apologize. And we will  _ talk _ about this. Do you understand?”

The dragon keened in protest, its voice breaking. Yuuri almost felt sorry for it. But Victor was unmoved.

“I’m waiting, Yuri,” Victor sang, steel in his voice.

After a muted silence, the pressure around Yuuri’s legs eased and he looked down to see the ice melting away from him. The sensation of pins and needles raced through his legs as blood returned to his previously frozen extremities. Yuuri sat down hard on the ice, mind racing and trying to grasp what was going on.

He opened his mouth to ask Victor, but the sight before him rendered him speechless as before his very eyes, the dragon dissolved into a snow storm which abated, leaving one golden haired, emerald eyed, and very angry boy behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter: At the End of the Beginning is coming soon.


	7. At the End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk. They break down. They begin again.

There was nothing else to do but smile, and smile Victor did. His pulse hammered with fear and his heart was trying to escape through his throat, but Victor grit his teeth and forced himself to be calm. The silence stretched, awkward and heavy with unspoken things.

Yuri broke first. “Why do I have to apologize?” he snarled and turned to Yuuri. “It’s all your fault. You apologize!”

Even in human form, Yuri’s fury was palpable, like a wave crashing into rock, intent on beating all before it into submission. Yuuri flinched and Victor’s smile sharpened.

“Yuri, that’s no way to—”

“Shut up, old man!” Yuri snapped. Anger blazed in him, crimson and unforgiving. “This is your fault too! What are you doing here? Why here? Why him? What did he do to you? How could you leave us? Don’t you know what it’s like back home? We’ve lost another mountain on the West side! How could you just disappear like that when we need you the most?! How could you abandon us?”

Yuri trembled with rage. Victor raised his hands in appeasement, trying to stem the tide of wrath.

“Yuri, I didn’t abandon anyone. It’s true I left...suddenly, but I told Yakov that I would return. Didn’t he tell you?”

Yuri looked away, mutinous. Victor’s eyebrows rose.

“He doesn’t know you left? Yuri…”

“He doesn’t care! He’s not doing anything either. Everyone is just...just _waiting_. No one wants to fight anymore. You’ve all given up. I— I thought you at least still cared. That you would keep fighting. But I was wrong. No one cares. Not even you…”

Victor closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Yuri. The ice fell away and Yuri hugged him back, shoulders shaking as he buried his sobs in Victor’s chest.

_You promised. You don’t even remember, do you? You made a promise and you forgot. You forgot._

Victor’s arms tightened around Yuri, so small, so young, so fragile. _I didn’t forget, Yuri. I’m sorry. I should have told you before I left but…_ Victor glanced at Yuuri, meeting the heavy mahogany gaze on him. He bowed his head. _“I’m sorry, Yuri.”_

When he had regained control of his emotions, Yuri lifted his head. “Victor, let’s go back to Nebogori.”

Victor closed his eyes. “No, Yuri. There’s nothing I can do if I go back. There’s nothing I can do for our kin by returning there.”

Emerald eyes blazed with indignation and then dimmed. “It is lost then.” Yuri’s shoulders slumped. “We are doomed.”

Victor’s eyes strayed to Yuuri again. Yuuri sat on the ice watching them, and shivering.

“Let’s head indoors. Yuuri’s family owns a hot springs inn. We can talk there.” Victor draped his coat around Yuri and stepped away. Slowly, he walked over to where Yuuri sat.

“Can you stand?” Victor extended a hand to Yuuri. Yuuri stared up at him, a thousand and one questions churning in him. He hesitated and then took Victor’s hand. Victor exhaled in relief.

“What—?” Yuuri closed his mouth and shook his head. He ran a hand through his hair. His mind was clouded, thoughts and emotions in turmoil. Confusion. Bewilderment. Betrayal.

Victor’s eyes dropped to the ground. “I’ll explain when we get back. First, let’s get you out of the cold.”

Yuuri only nodded and began following Victor back to the shore, the silence awkward between them.

“I’m not walking.” Yuri stared at them, arms folded. “There aren’t any human shelters nearby. Where do you propose we take him?”

Victor’s smile strained.

“It will be dark soon,” Yuuri whispered. He looked up at the darkening sky. “Even if we start back now, it will be dangerous to rush.” Yuuri shivered.

Victor’s smile softened. “Don’t worry, Yuuri. There’s plenty of time if we fly.”

“Fly?” Yuri stalked towards them, lip curling in disgust as he eyed Victor’s hand still clasped with Yuuri’s. “Are you going to carry him on your back? Let him ride you as if you were his pet?” Yuri taunted.

Victor showed his teeth as he smiled at Yuri. “No, but I’m sure Makka wouldn’t mind!”

Victor called to Makka and a moment later, the pegasus burst out from the underbrush he had been hiding in as Victor and Yuuri had climbed the mountain.

Yuri hastily got out of Makka’s way as he galloped across the ice and came to a stop in front of Victor.

“Hey, boy,” Victor said, patting Makka on the nose. Makka nuzzled into his hand. “Here, you remember, Yuuri right?” Victor gave Yuuri’s hand a squeeze and then held it up before releasing it. “It’s ok, Yuuri. He likes his nose petted.”

Timidly, Yuuri stretched out his hand. Makka pushed his nose into it and then licked it, snorting happily.

“He’s a… He’s—,” Yuuri giggled, “He’s yours?”

Victor nodded as Makka neighed in approval, leaping away and returning with Yuuri’s glasses in between his lips.

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, wiping them and putting them on. He blinked up at Victor, the suspicion growing in his mahogany eyes.

“Like I said,” Victor tried to keep his voice steady, “I’ll explain everything when we get get back.” Victor put on a brave smile. “I owe you at least that much.”

 

* * *

 

The flight back took no time at all. Their wings ate up the distance and then it was a matter of finding a safe place to land and shifting back into human form. Yuuri had not met his eyes once, though Victor felt his gaze on him when he looked away. Realization had dawned on Yuuri when Victor shifted into his dragon form after making sure that Yuuri was settled and safe on Makka. Yuuri’s mind brimmed with questions, but he held them to himself, and Victor didn’t want to pry.

They first went to the sheltered copse in the forest where Makka had been hiding with Victor’s things. When Yuri had been sufficiently clothed, they walked back to Yutopia in silence.

Mari looked up from the front desk when they entered.

“You’re back early.” Her eyes fell on Yuri. “Who’s—”

“Mari,” Yuuri coughed. “This is uhh... This is Victor’s—”

“Cousin.” Victor looped an arm around Yuri. “Mari, please meet my cousin Yuri. When word got home that I had lost my belongings, Yuri traveled here with some of my things. I hope it’s not too much trouble if he stays here with us. My debt to you is doubled."

“Of-of course. That’s not a problem.” Mari stared at Yuri. “Your name is Yuuri too?”

“Huh? No. It’s Yu-ri! Not—”

“Hmmm, you’re right, Mari. This is going to be confusing.” Victor tapped a finger to his lips.

“What about Yurio?” Mari suggested.

“What?!” Yuri balked. “That’s—”

“That’s perfect!” Victor exclaimed. He grinned at Yuri’s death stare. “Where can Yurio stay?”

Mari checked her ledger. “Well, there is the room upstairs next to yours that is available. I’ll go make sure it’s ready.” Mari closed her ledger and moved towards the stairs. “Yuuri, come help.”

Yuuri started. “What. Why do I—”

“It will be just a minute.” Mari said to Victor and Yuri. “Why don’t you both have a bath and change your clothes first? My mother should have dinner for you whenever you’re ready. Oh, and she would also like some help with putting away things in the storeroom if you don’t mind, Victor?”

“Not at all,” Victor said, smiling.

As Yuuri disappeared after Mari, Victor put a hand around Yuri’s neck and steered him towards the baths.

“Unhand me, Victor! Why are we going along with this!?!”

“Hush, Yurio. The baths here are lovely. You’ll thank me later. It will be good for you, Yurio.”

“Shut up! That’s not my name!”

 

* * *

 

Yuri was already eating in the private dining room when Victor finished bathing. Two empty bowls were in front of him and two more untouched bowls were set around the table. Yuri was scarfing down the katsudon in a third. He looked up as Victor entered, still wringing out his hair with a towel.

 _You look like you’re doing great,_ Victor!

Victor’s gaze dragged over Yuri. He noticed the sharp collar bones peeking out from beneath Yuri’s robes, the sallow tint of his face, the dark circles under his eyes — all the clearer for the lack of dirt and grime on his face.

_Thanks, Yurio! I—_

_It wasn’t a compliment!_ Yuri sneered. He ran a critical eye over Victor. _Look at you. Victor of the Ice Wyverns. Our champion. A living legend. The last Earthborn. You were meant for greatness and here you are. Grovelling and in servitude to humans. Disgusting._

 _Watch your tone, young dragon. These people have been nothing but kind to us. They have fed, bathed, and clothed you. Opened their home and welcomed us with open arms. They do not ask for more than I can give in return._ Victor settled himself at one of the bowls. Where was Yuuri?

_Are you saying you actually enjoy being human? Staying here and pretending to be one of them?_

_I am saying,_  Victor picked up his chopsticks, _that we are no better than them just because we are dragons. Why should the nature of our births set us apart?_

_They hate us. They would hunt us. Mount our heads on a wall like the trophies they think we are. Yuri stabbed at a pork cutlet. Grains of rice flew across the table._

_Do you really believe that?_ Victor swept the rice into a neat pile with his napkin. _They are not like us, their hearts are open as are their minds. Will you cling to history or believe the evidence of your eyes? Have you even bothered to look around?_

 _I know everything I need to know! Humans are made of greed and ambition. If they knew who you are, what you really are. Do you think they would hesitate to cut you down for their own profit? They are empty! They can only take. They will destroy you without a second thought. Just like they did to my parents. Just like they tried to do to me!_ Yuri’s chopsticks threatened to break, he was gripping them so hard.

 _They are not all like that…_ Victor raised his bowl to his mouth.

 _You think these people are different? You think_ he’s _different?_

Victor didn’t answer, didn’t want to answer. He was sure that Yuuri would understand, sure that Yuuri could be trusted. But Victor had been wrong before.

 _You do, don’t you? You think we can trust him. And yet you hid too._ Yuri’s lip curled. When Victor began eating and ignored him, Yuri banged his half-finished bowl on the table. “When I found you with him, I was shocked. Him again! Of all people! I attacked because I thought he had you under a spell, that he had enthralled you somehow. But I was wrong. I saw his face. He had no idea.”

Yuri jabbed a finger at him. “When you took his memories from that night, you kept the connection, didn’t you? That’s how you found him again. You’ve been keeping tabs on him. Listening to him. Looking through his eyes. _You_ enthralled _him_. Does he know that? Will you tell him that you’ve been deceiving him since the Winter’s Solstice or should I? Will you tell him what you did to him in Saoul? What do you think he will do then? Are you too much of a coward to face the truth? Will you just live in a dream like you’ve been doing for the past seasons, pretending that you’re only doing this for his benefit?”

“What do you want from me, Yuri?” Victor set his bowl down and stared at Yuri.

Yuri’s eyes blazed with anger. “I want you to stand up and do your duty. I want you to end this charade and come home. You are supposed to be our leader. You are supposed to keep us safe! Not risk our secrets like this!”

“Going back is not the way,” Victor said, quietly. He clenched his chopsticks.

“Why?! Explain to me why not then! What have you done here? Show me one shred of proof that being here is better than coming home.”

Victor looked down at his half eaten food.

Victor heard Yuri slam his chopsticks on the table. “Yakov was right about you.” Yuri’s voice quivered. “You only ever thought about yourself. You’re selfish and a fraud. Liar. You’re just like everyone else — a disappointment.”

Yuri stood and stormed to the door, throwing it open to reveal Yuuri standing there. A tray with tea shook in his hands. Yuri threw one last look of disgust at Victor and disappeared past Yuuri, leaving Victor alone with him.

“Yuuri…”

Yuuri’s eyes met his. “Is what he said true?”

Victor’s throat was dry. He swallowed. “Yuuri, what did you hear?”

“That… That you took my memories. And...and something happened on the Winter’s Solstice…” Yuuri faltered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.” He bowed. “Excuse me, I think my mother is calling me.”

“Yuuri. Wait!”

But Yuuri was gone and Victor was left alone with only his guilt and regret as silent and cold companions.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri walked through the hallways, his heart pounding something painful in his chest. He hadn’t meant to pry, hadn’t meant to listen, hadn’t meant to find out like that. But Yuri was shouting and he couldn’t help hearing. He had heard Yuri mention memories again, his memories. And the Winter’s Solstice...Saoul. And those things he said about Victor.

Yuuri’s head throbbed. He felt like he should have understood what Yuri was saying, felt like he was missing something. But try as he might, his memories of Saoul stopped frustratingly at getting drunk at the festival after telling Celestino about the dragon on the hill with Phichit.

No, not ‘the dragon.’ Victor. Victor had saved him from the falling ice and even if he didn’t remember, Yuuri was sure that he had met Victor, the human Victor, in Saoul.

_...you took his memories from that night..._

That boy, Yuri, had stated it so plainly. The void in his memories hadn’t been a result of drunkeness as he’d always assumed. But why? What had happened that Victor had to take his memories that that night? Didn’t he trust Yuuri?

The thought stung. Hard as it was to admit, he liked Victor. He had wanted to like Victor. He had been drawn in by Victor’s charisma and good looks, had been flattered that Victor seemed to want to spend so much time around someone as plain and boring as him that he had never questioned why, was willing to accept the paper thin story Victor had fed him, had wanted to believe the lies.

But why had Victor lied to Yuuri then? No matter how Yuuri looked at it, Victor hadn’t been honest with him. Victor’s arrival hadn’t been a coincidence, and after Yuuri had watched him manipulate ice and snow without the aid of a staff like it was child’s play, Yuuri wondered how much of the strange weather they had seen was Victor’s doing. Even after taking his memories, Victor had followed him here. He had kept tabs on Yuuri. Victor had spied on him. But why? What secrets were Victor hiding? How much of the attention he had showered on Yuuri was genuine? Of the things he had told Yuuri, what was true and what was false? Who was Victor, really?

Yuuri stopped walking. He was in a part of the inn that had been closed for renovation. On the other side of the paper wall was the garden his father was constructing. The tray of tea wobbled in his hands and Yuuri looked distractedly around him through the tears for a place to set it down.

“I can hear you snivelling,” a voice griped from the other side of the wall. “Just come here and get it over with. What do you want, pig?!”

Yuuri blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I said, what do you want, pig?”

Yuuri’s feet propelled him around the wall. “My name is Yuuri—”

“I know what your name is,” Yuri bit out, glaring at him.

Yuuri held his tongue, staring at the dragon he shared a name with. Yuri sat by the pond, his knees pulled up to his chin. His eyes were red and puffy, though his glare was no less intimidating.

Yuuri walked over and set the tray down beside him. He sat on the other side, the tray between them. Ignoring the growl Yuri gave him, he poured out two cups of tea.

He offered one to Yuri. “Would you like some tea? It will help warm you up.”

“I’m not a weakling like you,” Yuri snarled. “The cold doesn’t bother me.”

Yuuri shrugged and placed the cup down next to him.

“It’s here if you want it.”

Yuuri picked up his own cup and sipped the hot liquid, savouring it. After awhile, he spoke up, “I’m sorry about your home.”

“What would you know.”

Yuuri breathed in the steam from his tea. “I… I don’t have the full picture and I don’t know what happened to you, but from what I’ve heard, I’m sorry.” Yuuri took another sip of tea. “I know you don’t feel safe here, and you’re eager to leave.” After five cycles on the road, in constant risk of bandits and marauders, Yuuri knew the value of keeping your head down and that there was safety in numbers. Yuri had come to Hasetsu alone. “I know what it’s like to feel unwelcome in a place. Like you don’t fit in. Like everyone is just watching you, waiting for you to mess up.” He had visited towns and villages that were suspicious of mages and stayed at the city of the Order where the mage scholars looked at him with judgement in their eyes, weighing his worth in his skill with magic. Thankfully, Celestino never insisted that they stayed at a place Yuuri or Phichit felt uncomfortable in for long. Yuuri finished the rest of his tea and set his cup down. “I’ll make preparations for you and Victor to leave tomorrow.”

Yuuri gathered the cups and made to stand.

“Gods, you’re such a simpleton.”

Yuuri stopped as Yuri huffed.

“Look, fatso, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Yuuri blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry okay! I was mad and...and, I shouldn’t have attacked you just like that.” Yuri grit his teeth. “Victor’s always telling me to calm down and use my head, that I always jump to conclusions. He calls me impulsive. Says that I always get too caught up in the moment.”

Yuri stared at his toes.

“It’s...it’s not that I regret what I said. It’s just…It’s just…”

“He was your hero, wasn’t he?”

Yuri looked up, surprised. He gave Yuuri a grim nod. “I’ve known him my whole life. After my— My grandparents raised me. Victor was always around. I guess I looked up to him. We all did.”

Yuuri settled back down and stared at his hands. Victor was dazzling. He had only known Victor for a few short weeks and been captivated by him. Discovering that Victor was not all that he seemed to be left Yuuri feeling hollow. Yuri must be devastated.Yuuri wondered what he would be like if he grew up looking up to Victor. Probably worse than Yuri, Yuuri snorted at himself.

“This must be hard.”

Yuri picked up his cooled tea. “Calling him out on his bullshit? That’s easy. He’s so full of it.”

Yuuri glanced at him. “I meant being let down like that.”

Yuri frowned and gulped down his tea.

“He didn’t take all my memories, you know.” Yuuri refilled their cups. “I remember watching the Solstice Lights with my friend, Phichit. They were so beautiful. And then shards of ice fell from the sky. I was about to be killed by one of them, when a dragon appeared! Never would I have dreamt that happening! I had heard of them...you all...before, of course. I daydreamed of meeting one when I was younger. And then one appeared, blasted the ice right out of the sky.” Yuuri turned his cup round between his fingers. “Victor saved my life. Me, a dime-a-dozen human he didn’t know.” The tea leaves swirled in the bottom of his cup. “Whatever memories he took from me, I’m sure he had a good reason.”

Yuri huffed. “Aren’t you mad at him? For lying to you. He didn’t have to seek you out again. He didn’t have to keep watching you, you know.”

Yuuri blinked and drank. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to process. I wasn’t sure what to think when Victor, human Victor, first appeared. But then he stayed and we got to know each other.” Yuuri stared into his cup. “I was feeling isolated when Victor appeared. If he was...spying on me,” Yuuri swallowed around the word, “through— through this connection… Maybe he sensed how I felt and that’s why he came?”

Yuuri drained his cup.

“I’ve always thought of dragons as brilliant, majestic beings. Far too great and magical to concern themselves with us humans. But Victor’s not like that at all.” Yuuri couldn’t help smiling as he remembered: Victor trekking up a mountain, too proud to admit that he needed a break; Victor helping his mother in the kitchen, both of them laughing as he learned how to make katsudon; Victor on his hands and knees, elbows dark with dirt as he listened to Yuuri’s father lecture him about the great blessings of earthworms; Victor following Mari around with extra blankets and sheets, saving her a second trip; Victor smiling so softly at Yuuri as he served him tea after a long day’s work.

Yuri scoffed. “Victor’s the most ridiculous person I know.”

Yuuri chuckled “He is, isn’t he? He’s been nothing but surprising. And I can’t stay mad, at him or you.” Yuuri looked up. The night sky was clear, the stars twinkled in full display above them. “I really hope you both figure out a way to save your home.”

Yuri heaved a sigh. “You really feel that way, huh?”

“I do. I’d offer to let you read my mind, but you can already do that, can’t you?” Yuuri smiled.

Yuri snorted.

“You’re such an open book. It takes more work not to read your mind than to read it. Gods, no wonder he likes you so much.” Yuri rolled his eyes.

“He… He what?” Yuuri stared at Yuri, feeling the blush creep its way up his face.

Thankfully, Yuri didn’t seem to notice, staring at the pond in front of them. “I thought you were just enthralled, but after seeing you both together, the way he acts around you...” Yuri made a gagging sound. Then quietly, “I’ve never seen him so happy. And you actually do care about him. You wouldn’t sell him out even if you could, would you.”

Yuuri met Yuri’s emerald gaze and said with all his heart, “No, I never would. And I wouldn’t tell anyone about you either.”

Yuri looked incredulous.

“I’m serious!” Yuuri protested. “I’ve kept seeing Victor as a dragon a secret all this while! Phichit has been too. Celestino forbade us from speaking about it, and we’ve kept our promise.”

Yuri’s brow creased. “Does Victor know about this?”

“I—” Yuuri paused, “I don’t—”

“I knew.” Victor stepped out from behind the wall.

“Is there no privacy in this gods damned place?!”

Victor smiled. It was bemused and a little sad, but it was genuine. “You were right, Yuri. Not about humans, but about me. About me being here. I don’t have anything to show for my time away, but I’m going to change that.”

“Really? You’ll come back with me?” Yuri jumped up, elated. Yuuri’s heart sank.

Victor shook his head. “Going back is not the answer. I still stand by that. We need another way, a new home.”

“What?! Leave Nebogori?!” Yuri’s hands fisted at his side. “You’re crazy! That’s impossible!”

“Why?” Victor tilted his head. “Magic is fading from this world. There isn’t enough left to sustain Nebogori. When it fails completely, what do you think will happen? Where do you think that would leave us?”

“But you and Yakov will think of something! We can call on Aerwath! Or Emlya! The gods would not abandon us!”

Victor closed his eyes, breathing deeply. As if he was reciting from memory, his voice sonorous and entrancing, he began to speak:

 _I am fading._  
_I am tired._  
_Soon, sleep will claim me._  
_And I will not be able to hear your call._  
_It is the way things have been._  
_It is the way things will be._  
_It is the way things are._  
_You will be my last;_  
_My final gift._  
_The change will be hardest on you, my children._  
_The path before you is hidden._  
_Many difficult decisions and hard choices await you._  
_I cannot guide you,_  
_But I can tell you this:_  
_Be true to yourself,_  
_And in the end,_  
_you will be,_  
_my victor._

Victor opened his eyes. The garden was quiet, silent. The wind had died and even the insects  seemed to have disappeared. Yuri stood rigid. Yuuri felt shaken, rattled by Victor’s words that were more than words, carried by more than sounds, birthed from someone or something older, deeper, more powerful than a dragon.

“I have carried her words with me my whole life,” Victor said. “They have whispered to me, haunted me, given me strength. I used to think that it was only for me. A personal prophecy, my own burden to bear. But now I see that it is to all of us. For all of us.” Victor looked at Yuri. “So now you know. Change is coming, Yuri. The old ways will not protect us anymore. It’s time to find a new path. I don’t know if I will be successful, but I intend to try. You can tell Yakov that I will return by Winter’s Solstice. I will be there, at the very end.”

Yuri’s face hardened. “You can tell him yourself,” he ground out, “I’m not some errand boy you can order around.”

Yuri stomped off, his shoulder knocking into Victor roughly as he passed him.

They listened until Yuri’s footsteps on the wooden floorboards faded into silence. The crickets began to sing again and a breeze rustled through the garden. Victor let out a sigh.

“Well, that went better than I expected.” Victor smiled, but his eyes remained troubled.

Yuuri collected the used cups on his tray. “I suppose you will be leaving then.” Yuuri stood, picking up the tray.

“I’m sorry, but I must.”

Yuuri concentrated on keeping the tray steady as he walked “I… I understand.” Yuuri slipped passed Victor, his face turned downward, hoping that the tears welling up unbidden in his eyes would not spill over. Why did the tears come so easily?

“Wait, Yuuri.” Yuuri froze. From the corner of his eye, he could see Victor’s hand clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he wanted to reach out and catch Yuuri, but didn’t dare. “These past months have been… Wonderful. Amazing. Exceptional. I’ve never felt so alive or so...welcome. Truly, I am in your debt. If there’s anything I can do for you before I leave…”

“No, no, you’ve... you’ve been…” Why was it so difficult to speak? “It’s been great getting to know you. You know.”

Victor’s voice was soft. “I’m glad to hear that, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinked furiously. “I… I should go.”

“Yuuri, one last thing.”

Victor stepped close to him and covered one of Yuuri’s hands in his. It was warm. Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

“That night in Saoul, I took something from you.”

Yuuri looked up. Victor was watching him intently. He smiled as Yuuri’s eyes met his. _My memories._

Victor nodded. “I did it to protect us, the dragons. If humans knew we could shift into their form, that we might walk among them as one of them…”

“They’d never trust you. They would be afraid of you.”

“Yes, they would also come after you. Any human who wielded magic would be suspect. Any mage a potential threat.”

Yuuri gulped, digesting the implications of a world where mages were not only distrusted, but feared. It was not a pretty picture. “I… I understand. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” Yuuri promised.

“I know it is. That’s why… I want to give you your memories back.”

Yuuri stared at him, speechless.

Victor ran a hand through his hair, smiling faintly. “Maybe I’m being selfish, but this way, if you have them, you’ll have something to remember me by. I can give them back to you, if— if you want them.”

Yuuri took a deep breath. “I do.”

Victor took the tray from Yuuri and set it down. “Take my hands, look into my eyes, and try to relax.”

Yuuri tried to do as he was told. Victor squeezed his hands. “Don’t worry, Yuuri. By joining minds like this, we’ll walk through your memories together. You will see them, and you will remember. You’ll have them again, and when we are done, I will end the connection this time. It won’t hurt.”

Yuuri exhaled and intertwined his fingers with Victor’s. “It’s alright. I trust you.”

 

* * *

  

Yuuri awoke in his bed, his mind rising from the dream he had been having. Not a dream; _a memory_. His memories were all there, all of them in exquisite detail, glimpsed through both Victor’s eyes and his. Victor had been true to his word. Yuuri remembered everything: Dancing in Saoul; Fighting in Saoul; Victor watching him; Victor trying to help Yuuri perform magic. That had been upsetting. To find out that Victor had been meddling with his spells for months, causing consternation and calamity when Yuuri couldn’t control the magic, even if it was in the spirit of being helpful, Yuuri couldn’t help the surge of anger at that revelation. But it was also a relief to know that his failures weren’t all his own fault. It was good to know. Yuuri felt whole, full when before he had been empty.

Yuuri watched the light streaking across his room, marking the day as just past sunrise. It was early. Breakfast would not be ready for a while yet. Yuuri could lie here and remember, revel in his newfound memories. He could remember Victor.

Victor.

Victor was leaving today. Yuuri shot up and sprinted to Victor’s room, throwing the door open.

Victor’s room was empty. Panic spiked in him and Yuuri darted to the room next door. Yuri’s room was also empty, spotless. His bed was still made, untouched. Yuri hadn’t even slept in it.

His heart thumping, Yuuri caught the murmur of words being exchanged. Straining his ears, Yuuri recognized his mother’s voice, bidding someone goodbye.

Yuuri sprinted downstairs towards the voices. His mother stood at the entryway, wrapped in her nightgown still and clutching a blanket around her shoulders. A glint of silver through the window caught his eye.

He dashed out the door, deaf to his mother’s surprised calls.

“Victor! Wait! Wait!”

Victor stopped at the end of the walkway, bags slung around him. He looked back in surprise.

Yuuri ran, and without thinking twice, barrelled into Victor’s outstretched arms. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” Yuuri said into his shoulder. _Again? There’s so much I want to tell you. Where do I even start?_

Victor’s arms tightened around him. “I thought you would never want to see me again.”

Yuuri grimaced and he pushed Victor away, holding him at arms length. “I’m still mad at you for— for some things. But that doesn’t mean you can just run off like that! At least apologize first!”

Victor looked at him with a mixture of surprise and remorse. He dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said meekly.

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s shoulders. “Stuff it. I don’t actually want an apology.”

Victor tilted his head. “What do you want, Yuuri?”

Yuuri paused to consider, but there was no real doubt about what he wanted. “I want breakfast. I want to eat katsudon, I want to eat katsudon with you. I want… I want to go with you.”

Yuuri could feel Victor’s surprise. “But Yuuri, your training... Your Trials?”

Yuuri hopped from one foot to the other. Even in summer, a thin layer of frost coated the ground this early in the morning. “Yurio broke my staff. I can’t practice or do magic. Take some responsibility, would you?”

Yuuri rushed on before he lost his nerve.

“Please coach me until my Trials!” _I’ve asked you before, to stay close to me. You did. Now please, let me stay close to you._

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. He was laying it all out there. He didn’t know what Victor would say.

“Yuuri.” Victor was breathless. The tight knot in his chest unclenched and emotions — relief, joy, incredulity — suffused him, making him warm. He stared at Yuuri in front of him, hair disheveled and sleep sand still stuck in his eyelashes. Victor had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Smiling, Victor loosened the arm gripping his shoulder. He took Yuuri’s hand in his and pressed it to his lips.

Yuuri’s eyes opened wide, his adorable blush dusting his cheeks and nose pink.

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal.”

Yuuri reddened and began to stammer.

Victor laughed and pulled him back into a hug.

“I would be honoured to coach you. I’d love to travel the world with you, Yuuri. We can explore it together.” _I wish you’d never complete your Trials._

Yuuri clutched him closer, and Victor could feel the swell of emotion in him as Yuuri teared up. Victor wanted to cry too.

_Let’s find the dragons a new home together._

Victor hugged Yuuri close, breathed in his scent and held him. When he had left the inn. he thought he had been ready to face the long journey alone. Even if he had Makka, this journey was going to be lonely. But now, how glad he was that Yuuri would be with him. Victor could stay like this forever.

“Oi.” A voice — impatient and aggressive — called out. “Are you guys done gushing over each other? Can we get moving now?”

They broke apart and squinted at Yuri, standing by the fence next to the forest. Makka nickered from the bushes.

“Yurio! You’re still here? I thought you left yesterday.” Victor beamed at him.

Yurio scowled. “For what. I told you I wasn’t an errand boy. What good would going back be? If you’re going to look for a new home for us, I’m coming to make sure you find one I like.”

“But Yuri, it might be dangerous.”

Yuri’s eyes glittered. “You’re letting him come along. What can he do that I can’t handle?”

“Your grandparents would worry.”

Yuri tossed his head. “I told Mila to tell Yakov I’m with you. Seeing as he hasn’t showed up to drag us both home yet…” Yuri shrugged.

Victor grinned “Alright, let’s go then! First, we’ll—”

“Hang on, I’m not ready!” Yuuri said. “I need to pack and-and…can we eat breakfast first?”

Yuuri’s stomach gave a well-timed growl. Yuuri looked mortified. Yuri quirked a smile. Victor laughed.

“Okay, let’s go back in for breakfast.” Victor took Yuuri’s hand and began walking back to the inn. Yuuri’s eyes met his, sparkling with laughter and anticipation for the adventure to come. Victor smiled at him.

_Stay close to me, and I’ll stay close to you. Let’s leave together. I’m ready now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take this opportunity to thank and give a shout out to all the people that helped me write this story. This story is my baby, but it took a village to raise. So, without further ado:
> 
> [ICanSeeClearlyNow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICanSeeClearlyNow/pseuds/ICanSeeClearlyNow), this fic wouldn’t have happened without you. Thanks for convincing me to join this bang and write this story!
> 
> [shadhahvar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar) for being a constant source of support and jumping in to pinch hit and make such a [lovely piece of art](https://i.imgur.com/MleMgkM.png) for me even when she was swamped.
> 
> [Zupsgirl1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fraulein_Zupan/pseuds/Zupsgirl1) for being an incredible beta! Thank you for your patience with me and for listening to me ramble and helping me punch through when I got stuck on plot ideas!
> 
> [callasyndra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callasyndra/pseuds/callasyndra), thank you for supporting me and for bearing with me all the times I was freaking out about my writing not being good enough.
> 
> [DameOfNoDelicacy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameOfNoDelicacy/pseuds/DameOfNoDelicacy) thank you for listening to me and for helping get me through the bang!
> 
> [sprosslee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprosslee/pseuds/sprosslee) Thank you for reading and giving me feedback on those early chapters! They were so encouraging and helped keep me going <3
> 
> [SqueezeBabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe/pseuds/SqueezeBabe) Thank you for making me feel welcome and not insignificant :D
> 
> [Vixen13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13) I’m glad we met!! Thank you for supporting me! I <3 the [banner](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com/post/178717093479/watch-this-space-banner-by-thatvixenchick-the) you made for me and your banner making skills! :D
> 
> [GeekMom13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekMom13/pseuds/GeekMom13) WE DID IT!! It's been a ride. I'm glad I got to know you along the way!
> 
> [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil) I'm so glad we met!! You are amazing and thank you for supporting me!
> 
> [Jensen](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/) Thank you for cheering me on!
> 
> [Nightofviolet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_Falls/pseuds/Snow_Falls) People say the pick an audience and write to them. You are one of them and I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic!
> 
> [Schion](http://schion.tumblr.com/) Thank you for carving time out of the busyness and madness that is your life for me and being so sweet and encouraging still!
> 
> [memorizingthedigitsofpi](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/) Thank you for making a [banner](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com/post/178969262344/watch-me-catch-the-sky) for me and holding my hand as I cried through this fic!
> 
> [BabblingBadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabblingBadger/pseuds/BabblingBadger) This couldn’t have happened without you. Thank you for holding my hand and pulling and pushing me through. Your cheers, encouragement, and support meant everything and helped keep me going.
> 
> I know this was a long list, and if I have missed anyone, consider this a shoutout to you! There were so many other wonderful people I met throughout this journey. You’re all champs. Keep fighting!
> 
> Last but not least, Thank you to You, dear reader. Thank you for reading this and staying with me. I hope you enjoyed this story! If you can, please leave me a comment letting me know what you think! Even a simple “<3” lets me know that this story brought you some small joy.
> 
> Much love to you all.
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](https://imaginarydragonling.tumblr.com) (yes, I'm still there even though tumblr-mageddon is happening), [twitter](https://twitter.com/im_dragonling), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/imaginarydragonling), and discord (@felix #6267). Come talk to me or say hi!


End file.
